


In The Name of The Lord

by iriswallpaper, Philomena85



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Death Threats, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Monastery, Self-Discovery, Sherlock Holmes and Bees, monk!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 54,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8167813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iriswallpaper/pseuds/iriswallpaper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomena85/pseuds/Philomena85
Summary: After returning from Afghanistan, John Watson has managed to get back into professional life - but something is missing. His quest for meaning leads him for a time to a monastery, where he soon acquainted with an exceptional monk.  But there’s more there than he had suspected at first glance ...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Im Namen des Herrn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7659148) by [Philomena85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomena85/pseuds/Philomena85). 



> I saw a fic rec for Philomena85's **Im Namen des Herrn** and was intrigued. I really wanted to read it but it's written in German. I used Google's 'translate page' function page to read the first chapter and was so intrigued by the fic, I asked Philmena85 if I could 'pusedo translate' it. I don't speak or read German so this translation is done using Google Translate then editing the results and sending them back to the author for final editing. 
> 
> Thank you, Philomena 85, for allowing me to translate your fic!

Chapter 1 : Prologue

It had only been a short sentence, almost casual, but spoken with a seriousness that left no doubt that it was not a mere proposal but a statement that I had to follow. I could not risk losing my job sooner or later.

"You should take a break, Dr. Watson."

I could not suppress a soft sigh as I closed my locker door, and grabbed my jacket and backpack. Dr. Burke was right. I had made mistakes more often lately, had been inattentive and had even brought a patient to critical condition, because it was lost on me simply that he had significant symptoms of a stroke.

I loved my job; it had been the only thing I had left since I returned from Afghanistan. Maybe I had begun working too early, but the paltry pension the Army paid me simply was not enough to pay for the small apartment in London, which I had on my return. The landlord had already threatened to evict me so it was like a sign from heaven appeared when I encountered my former fellow student Mike Stamford one morning. He invited me for coffee and talked about his job at Bart's, where he had already worked during our training. When he learned of my financial difficulties, he invited me to apply there and offered to possibly put in a good word for me, should the clinic have vacancies that needed to be filled. Just a week later he called and gave me a job in the emergency room, for which I seemed predestined because of my military background and the associated stress resistance.

I was well received, soon forming friendships - my superiors praised my work and my ability to keep a cool head even in difficult situations. Everything should have been perfect, but after a few months I was overcome by a strange sadness that I could find no explanation for. I would never have expected that it would get so far that my tangled emotions affected my work. I decided to call Ella, my therapist, who had helped me after the unexpected end of my combat operations. She had diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder and advised me to write a blog in which I entered on everything that happened in my life - but unfortunately at that time it was not much, so I soon gave up the attempt.

After I had started the job at Bart's, I no longer showed up at our weekly meetings. At first I had called her secretary with ever new excuses invented to move the dates with her, but at some point I had given up calling at all. I no longer needed her help, at least I thought I was able to lead a normal life as a civilian.

Now I sat in Ella’s office for the first time in five months and felt as exposed as a lab rat on a dissecting table.

"John, why now?"

I looked up, as surprised by her words as if she’d awakened me from a deep sleep.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why do you come to me now? After you haven’t come for months? What happened?"

I felt my cheeks blush slightly. Caught. I shook my head as if I could thus expel the unpleasant thoughts that started me haunt again. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here, because actually I did not really know exactly what haunted me and slowly crept into not only my sleep, but also robbed the joy of life from me.

"I feel so empty ..." I muttered, regretting it the next moment when I saw Ella wrote something on her pad.

"Can you imagine a reason why you feel that way?"

At first I wanted to avoid it. Place a gruff reply. Something like 'If I knew what my problem is, I would not be here'. But I changed my mind. Did I really ever think consciously about why I feltthat way?

"I'm not sure ..." I added timidly, I’ve got a job I enjoy, nice colleagues with whom I go and have a drink now and then ..." A smile crossed my face as I thought of Sarah, an extremely likeable young doctor I worked with in the emergency room who always wore an expression of serenity even if chaos erupted around her.

"I have a date occassionaly."

Ella smiled back, but to my amazement, she noted nothing this time.

"That sounds very good, John. How about your family? Are you still in contact with your sister? "

"Every now and then, but I think the distance is doing both of us quite well."

Ella still looked at me as if waiting for me to bring up the crucial detail for her. The trigger for my gloom. When I did not respond, she tried again.

"What was different when you were still in Afghanistan?"

"I had a mission," I blurted out and then, when I realized what I had just said, I added what had never been so clear to me before: "My presence was important. My fellow soldiers trusted me, we were like a family, could rely on each other - everyone had their task, their place, their raison d'etre. It’s not that easy to replace. "

" How do you feel now? Interchangeable? "

I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. "It's possible."

"John, why is it so hard for you to trust others?"

The vexing issue which had already marked our previous sessions. My lack of trust in other people. I sighed and put my hands on the arms of the soft leather chair, just about to sit up and leave but my opponent called me back.

"I have already made the suggestion that you might take a retreat from everyday life to think and to be clear about what can give you back your life - and as you want to take a break now **,** this could be an opportunity for you to get yourself straightened out again. This companionship you seem to be missing,can not only be found in the army, but also in sports clubs, religious communities ... "

"Yes, yes, we talked about that ..."

"And you wanted to think about it."

"Yes."

"I can only try to show you the right direction - it is up to you whether you will follow it."

"Yes, thank you Ms. Thompson."

I was glad when I closed the door behind me. 


	2. Chapter 2

I stood in front of a high wooden gate that was set pleasantly harmoniously into a wall of light-colored sandstone - and yet I hesitated to put my finger on the brightly polished brass doorbell and push it in the designated recess. Had I really considered well enoughwhat I was about to do?

Two weeks ago an idea came intomy head without warning and I thought it was in fact a hint from above. I immediately started to implement my scheme. I had never been particularly religious but just the prospect of something new, something completely unknown, excited me tremendously. Maybe this experience would actually help me find myself. What could go wrong? It would be just four weeks - and I could leave anytime if it didn’t seem to be working for me. So why did I hesitate? For heaven’s sake, I had invaded Afghanistan - and now I was afraid of some monks?

Just when I worked up the courage to ring the doorbell, the door before me opened and a gray-haired man in a black habit with inconspicuous wire-rimmed glasses on his nose stood before me.

"You must be Dr. Watson." He greeted me with a friendly smile and held out his hand, "Father Lambert, I’m in charge of this convent."

"Very pleased," I replied and followed him inside the monastery.

"Have you left your mobile phone, your laptop, and the like at home?" 

"Yes, of course."

"Good." The prior smiled apologetically. "Some people come here and don’t know what they are getting into or what it means to take a contemplative time out, so I rather put things straight from the beginning."

"I understand that pretty well."

"In the coming weeks, you’ll live as our religious brothers live. This means that you’ll participate in the religious life here, celebrate mass with us and attend the Liturgy of the Hours. We want to be clear that this will be a big change for you, especially when it comes to prayer times, so you are exempted from participating in the nighttime vigil. Which of course does not mean that we would not be happy if you still participate. "

I muttered my agreement and began to wonder what I had just gotten myself into. So much for contemplative monastic life.

The prior led me to the room that would be my accommodation for the next few weeks. It was bright and friendly but at the same time, as I’d expected, very spartan with a narrow bed and a small dresser. A wooden crucifix hung above the head of the bed. Otherwise the walls were bare.

"Do you want to get settled or should I show you around a little more?"

"I don’t have a lot of luggage with me. We can go see some more if it’s alright with you," I said, pushing my bag under the bed.

"Very nice, then please follow me."

Father Lambert led me up through countless corridors, stairways and down again until I was confused and convinced I’d never be able to find the way back to my room alone.

"This is the refectory, where we take our meals. In silence. "

I had to admit that I was immensely delighted at the prospect of eating in silence - how long had that been my wish? In the army, in the hospital ...I’d always been exposed to loud noises while eating and I’d found it extremely disturbing as long as I could remember.

"Is there a fixed seating plan?"

"Yes, you will be sitting over there with the novices. The seating is determined by the duration of affiliation with the Order. I would, therefore, like to ask you to take the seat next to Brother Francis, this is the young man over there who just set the tables. Which leads immediately to our next topic: Over there is a written plan of all the chores that have to be done, from helping in the kitchen to cleaning up. This naturally also applies to you so I would ask you to take a look at it, so you can conscientiously perform your assigned tasks in order to support the whole of our community. "

"Of course, Father."

"I hope I didn’t scare you that much?" He asked and patted me on the shoulder, smiling. This man had an incredibly sympathetic way and even if I had imagined that my break from work would be a little more relaxed, I was still firmly convinced that I’d be able to gain valuable experience here.

Immediately we left the refectory and went on the seemingly endless way through the labyrinthine passages again until the Prior stood in front of high double doors that looked as if they would creak at the lightest touch. I was surprised when they opened without the slightest resistance.

"This is our library. Please feel free to retire here in your free time and devote yourself to the study of the written word. "

Fascinated, I entered the large room whose bookshelves piled up so high they almost reached the ceiling. Yes, I would happily stay here for a long time, although searching for the usual trivial literature would be wasting time. While I gazed at the room, I noticed a seemingly still, quite young monk who was standing near one of the window recesses, engrossed in an apparently very old book while constantly making notes in a small blue booklet. Beside him on the windowsill various plants were laid out neatly on a wooden tray. Although he did not stand far away from us and he certainly must have overheard our conversation, he did not turn around but traced his long, slender fingers over the pages of closely written text while writing with the other hand. My mind was struck by his full, dark curls which fell into his eyes and whose disorder didn’t seem to fit his immaculate black habit, and by his - considering his height - extremely slender shape.

"This is brother William, he currently works in the fields of herbal medicine, therefore he is, so to speak, a colleague of yours," Father Lambert introduced him to me and he finally turned around. His bright blue eyes pierced through me, leaving me momentarily speechless.

"Brother, this is John Watson, he will be our guest in the next four weeks."

The young clergyman gave me a shy smile and nodded at me timidly.

Before I could ask, the Prior added, "Brother William has taken a vow of silence, please respect that."

"Of course," I whispered and swallowed hard in an attempt to regain control of my own voice.

Never before had I met such a man - if he hadn’t been determined to dedicate his life to God and to leave everything else behind him, then women's hearts would certainly have been his. And also those of many men, the part of my subconscious that I had long tried to suppress added. The thought that someone like him had renounced the world voluntarily to be locked up behind high monastery walls instead, made goose bumps chase up and down my back. Although it was clear he certainly did not experience it as confinement. What had caused him to impose such a burden on himself? Had he suffered a severe stroke of fate? Or done something he now wanted to atone for? As much as I myself was hoping to draw strength and confidence from my stay in this convent, at the same time the idea of spending my life here seemed so strange, day after day following the same old rhythm of work and prayer endlessly. Nevertheless - or perhaps because of it - I admired the curly headed man for his decision.

"Come," Father Lambert interrupted my thoughts and pushed me gently out the door.

However, there was still something that I needed to ask: "What reason would a friar have to take a vow of silence? Or does he decide himself? "

"In most cases it happens quite voluntarily in order to keep his mind from external disturbances and thereby to open up completely to the voice of God and acting according to His will. However, there are also cases in which the silence is imposed as a usually temporary form of penance, in case a friar showed some kind of behaviour that doesn’t match with the Rule of the Order. "

My eyes darted back to the door of the library. The action was not lost on the Prior.

"Brother William has chosen to live in silence voluntarily and even though he is very young I know few people whose spirituality is as deep as his. His potential is enormous. "

I nodded approvingly, but deep inside I felt an unspeakable sadness that I would never be allowed to hear the voice of this remarkable man.


	3. Chapter 3

I have to confess that I only listened to Prior Lambert with half an ear during the rest of our tour of the sweeping monastery complex; my thoughts were too preoccupied with the mysterious monk and his dark curls. I scolded myself for a fool; I was like a teenager controlled by his hormones who wasn’t used to thinking with his brain, but … with other parts of his body. It was long ago that I had felt physically attracted to a man and then it was also likely due to the fact that there were no female soldiers in my unit, the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers - so you just had to take what you got.

"Dr. Watson?" Prior Lambert looked at me with a frown and I felt caught immediately.

"Sorry," I mumbled, clearing my throat.

"Are you sure that staying with us was the right decision for you to make?"

From his expression, I gathered that I was threatened with expulsion even before I had unpacked my stuff, so I tried to regain control over myself.

"Yes Prior, forgive me if I give a different impression, but I'm just a little overwhelmed by all the new impressions."

The gray-haired man nodded, and though I was sure that he did not believe my weak excuse, a benevolent smile showed on his face.

"Then maybe it's better if I accompany back to your room now, there you can take a rest and maybe try to settle in. At 17:30 the bell tolls for vespers, after that we retreat to the refectory for dinner. If it is all right, I'll send one of the novices, so he will pick you up in your room in time - I would imagine that it is not quite easy to find your way here at first. "

I sighed in relief. "You're right though. Thank you, Prior. "

The priest nodded again, then he left me at the door of my room and went on his way again. A glance at my watch showed that there was a little more than an hour left until I would participate at the Divine Office of the congregation for the first time. Everything still felt very strange and I began to understand that there was in fact a huge difference between Sunday service in my childhood and a four-week stay in a monastery.

I sat down on the bed and pulled out my bag, stored my clothes in the dresser on the opposite side of the room and finally put a small, blue-white patterned notebook on the nightstand. Ella’s instructions for me to write down everything that happened in my life had echoed through my head again and again and I decided to really try it this time. Yes, I would write about all the things that I experienced here. Hopefully, in the end this book would contain the spiritual development I so badly demanded to become acquainted with, along with stories about all the people I met. I would write about all that could fill my life with meaning and in a few years I might leaf through these notes, remember this time and smile fondly. 

I had already gathered so many new impressions that I decided I would put pen to paper as soon as I could. I could write about the architecture of the building, the ornate cloister, the details of the herb gardens, and Prior Lambert, who had patiently answered all my questions and was clearly committed to making me feel comfortable in his convent. I could write about my strange encounter with Brother William... My eyes flicked over to the booklet. If I did, then my little A5 Booklet certainly would not suffice, that was already clear to me. 

I had to distract myself. I looked around my room and was almost relieved when I discovered a leather-bound folder, the type also found in many hotels. It contained all kinds of useful information about life in the monastery; information concerning the Rule, the prayer and meal times, a floor plan of the monastery as well as a list of contacts I could turn to in case I had questions or needed emotional support. It was no surprise that a part of me already knew that a certain brother was not on that list. But, I kept telling myself, I did not come here to become acquainted with someone, but to finally find myself. Well, at least regarding my sexual orientation my stay already seemed to raise more questions than answers…

About an hour later there was a timid knock on the door of my room. For a brief moment I waited to see if my guest would just open it, but when that didn’t happen, I called a half-loud 'Come in!' at the direction the knock came from. The door opened a crack and a young monk with short blond hair and fashionable black-framed eyeglasses on the top of his snub nose shoved his head into the room.

"Good evening, Dr. Watson, I am Brother Jonah. Prior Lambert sent me to pick you up for vespers."

I jumped up hastily, spilling the content of the folder and my writing utensils onto the floor. To my surprise, the blond smiled indulgently and hurried to eliminate the mess that I had caused.

"No hurry, Doctor. You're here to come to rest, not to become even more stressed out."

"Sorry," I mumbled, and felt that I blushed again. "I don’t want to fail completely right from the start."

"You don’t have to be so impatient with doing things right. Of course you will make mistakes - you are not used to living in a monastery and you should know that it takes time to process all the details of our daily routine. I’ve been a novice for ten months and yet I mess things up occasionally. So what? Life means learning and if we knew it all from the beginning, what sense would our existence make, then? "

I rubbed my nose thoughtfully. I had only been here for a few hours and yet every conversation I’ve had today seemed to me like some kind of revelation. Had I really been so blind regarding the simple things in life? Could that be the origin of my problems? That I was worried about vanities all the time without recognising what really mattered?

The monk cleared his throat. "We have to set off now if we don’t want to be late."

"Oh yes, of course. Sorry."

I needed to stop my thoughts from wandering. And, as read in the strict gaze of the novice, I also needed to stop apologizing over and over again.

Brother Jonah took me to the part of the monastery church reserved for guests and then bid me farewell to go and sit with his brothers in the choir, which was separated from the public part of the church by an ornately carved wooden lattice. Fascinated, I gazed over the crowd of friars all dressed in black who were sitting in file as we sang the opening song. It somehow reminded me of my military training - everyone knew his place and did his duty for the community; like some kind of confraternity that seemed impressive and admirably to outsiders, although they didn’t know anything about this exclusive little club. Well, at least that was the impression I got, when I looked at the monks singing in unison.

I focused on the prayers of the Book of Hours and did my best to join in the right places; yet I could do nothing to keep my eyes from constantly wandering, looking for a face that seemed so familiar already, as if it was an old friend's face. I thought I found the dark curly head in one of the back rows, but I could not say with certainty whether they were the curls I searched for due to the dim light.

Time flew by and before I knew it, the men had risen again and recessed with a measured pace towards the exit. Brother Jonah appeared at my side again.

"Well, did you like it, Doctor?"

"Yes, very much!" I replied, and was amazed to realize it was absolutely true. This almost meditative calm that had prevailed during the common prayer had touched me unexpectedly deep. It felt like when you finally got home after a long journey. Still very inspired by these unfamiliar impressions, I followed the blond to the refectory and to the novice’s table, where I greeted Brother Francis with a friendly nod and took the seat to his right. After a brief look around the room I remained standing like all others until grace was spoken and the brothers took their seats. 

I initially experienced the silence at the table as something extremely unusual because it eliminated the possibility of asking the person sitting next to me for the butter or the sliced bread. Very soon I realized, however, that such requests were not necessary - the brothers who were accustomed to not communicating during the meal with words, interacted with looks and gestures. Passing the food was done more carefully than was usually the case outside the walls of the monastery and no one had to worry about being left behind. Still smiling, I sat back and enjoyed the spicy aroma of herbal tea, which was provided in large thermoses on the tables. Life could be so beautiful, once you consciously broke away from the things that otherwise seemed to be self-evident …

After dinner, the friars retreated for compline - the last prayer of the day - and for recreation, the time reserved for common leisure activities. I stood in the aisle, feeling a little helpless and tried not to call attention to myself.

"Don’t you want join us?" I was approached by an elderly clergyman whose thinning, graying hair stood in a heavy contrast to his bushy, jet-black eyebrows.

"I um ... I'm just a guest, I don’t want to bother you in your free time ..."

"Oh, nonsense! Come on!"

He put a hand in my back and pushed me into a nearby room that was equipped with several round tables and comfortable chairs. A small fire crackled in the fireplace and some daily newspapers were lying on the mantelpiece - though not the lurid tabloids that had always been found in the lounge of St. Barts. Open cabinets held various board games and there was a bookshelf, too. A broad grin crept over my lips when I inspected the books: The selection ranged from Agatha Christie and French poetry books to Stephen King. My mental image of deadly serious monks who did nothing but pray and read the bible was completely destroyed. The air around me buzzed with a happy chatter - some monks exchanged ideas, played a game of Parcheesi, sat by the fire enjoying the warmth, or made music. The sound of a violin wafted over to me from the far corner of the room and I turned around abruptly to see who was eliciting such magical sounds from the instrument; I myself had not even made it through more than two years of clarinet lessons in school and since then I had always felt a great admiration for people who mastered an instrument to perfection. And now that person stood before me in the shape of Brother William.

"Everyone who hears him play for the first time reacts like that", the elderly monk who brought me here whispered, "Our brother William is a downright genius."

"Yes, he is ..." I murmured reverently, staring at the curly head with my mouth open. He had closed his eyes and let the bow glide over the strings of the violin with a gentleness as if he caressed a loved one. Maybe that was indeed the case, perhaps to him the music was some kind of substitute for the relationship he could never have. In my opinion, the music ended much too quickly, but the audience showed their appreciation with loud applause. The dark-haired monk nodded in thanks and then retired to the newspapers. 

I myself spent the rest of the free time trying to explain to the other brothers who were curious as to precisely what had enticed a former military doctor to live behind monastery walls for a month. It was quite funny how quickly news of my career had spread - and they say that women are the ones that spread most gossip! 

So soon after my arrival, I felt wonderfully taken care of and everyone sincerely seemed to be trying to make my stay as pleasant as possible. I quickly made new friends, which had always been easy for me in an unfamiliar environment but seemed downright essential in a place like this - after all, I could not ask the Prior for advice every time I had a question! I would have liked to chat a little longer with the other men, but soon the bell tolled for night prayer and we went back to church.

When I returned to my room at half past eight, I noticed for the first time just how tired I was. I would simply have to rest a little, until I would be awakened by the bells, whose sound was pretty hard to ignore. Only a little doze, a tiny nap ...


	4. Chapter 4

Although I was determined to participate in the night-time vigil, I woke up with the sun, as the bells rang for matins; I could not remember the last time I had slept so well and jumped out of my bed elated, pulled on my clothes hastily and hurried into the church; the way was already familiar to me.

With the silence within the church, the fatigue returned. Again and again I began to yawn, but I tried as best as I could to hide it under the guise of singing. However, I noticed that it certainly was not just me, but also some of the friars. While I let my gaze wander over the assembled choir of men, it struck me for the first time that many of them seemed to be still quite young, maybe my age, but some also significantly younger. This fact surprised me; it wasn’t common these days to pursue a career as a clergyman, especially as a monk. I decided to spend the day trying to pick up on what might have possibly led them to this decision. On closer inspection, however, I had to put up with such a question, too - I had completed my medical studies as one of the best in my class, but instead of accepting a job at a posh private clinic and leading a largely carefree life I had decided to go to Afghanistan, knowing full well that I might not be able to return.

I hesitated a long time, but when I had decided on a training at the Royal Army Medical Corps, it was clear to me already that this was the path I wanted to take. I wanted to help people who were really reliant on my help. The “Medecines Sans Frontieres” would have been an alternative, but for some reason, I could not have fathomed the feelings the military aspect had provoked in me. I would not just pick up the pieces, by helping the wounded, but I would actively participate in fighting the root of the problem. I would be a doctor - but also a soldier. At no time had I regretted my decision - until I was hit by a projectile in the shoulder and became incapacitated from one second to the next.

There was movement in the assembled crowd, as the Eucharist replaced the lessons and Prior Lambert spoke the words of consecration I remembered from my childhood; it was an almost automatic movement for me to me kneel like everyone else, all these things seemed strangely familiar to me. As a child I was happy to go to church with my mother but as is so often the case, this habit was lost in the course of puberty and the times I attended Sunday Mass become fewer and fewer, and I had stopped going at some point without thinking about it.

My faith had often helped me, especially in Afghanistan ... if shots cracked around you and bombs detonated in close proximity, it could be immensely comforting to hope that somewhere, someone was holding a protective hand over you and over your squadron. As I lay there in the glowing desert sand and felt my life fading with every drop of blood dripping from my body, I had prayed for the first time in years. I begged the God whom I had ignored for so long to let me live and not to let me die in the middle of nowhere without a soul at my side. And He had heard me. My comrades had found me in time and had brought me to the relative safety of the hospital, where surgery was performed on me and I was drugged up to the eyeballs with antibiotics to counteract the onset of sepsis and, after two weeks, flown back home. The wound itself was not fatal, but the massive blood loss was hard on my body. The two weeks immediately after my injury are dim in my memory to this day; my knowledge about this period came mainly from the other soldiers’ stories and the treating physicians’ reports. I knew that my life would never be the same again; yet I was grateful to have escaped without lasting damage.

There was a slight commotion in the church for a moment when the friars got up in order and went into the sanctuary to receive Communion. I briefly thought about joining them but then decided against it. I was conscious of too many guilty memories that kept me from joining in. Brother William went forward last and knelt on the lowest altar step. Prior Lambert put the Host on the tip of his tongue. I went both hot and cold at the sight; I was aware that I could not stare at him like this, certainly not at such an intimate moment for a true believer - and yet I could not look away from his sensual, slender shape, the dark curls that played tenderly around his pale face and his lips. Absolutely inappropriate things raced through my head and I turned away embarrassed, hands frantically pressed to my lap. Pull yourself together, John Watson! This is neither the right time nor the place for such thoughts - quite apart from the fact that the man of my daydreams was committed to life as a monk and would never return my feelings.

I left the church hastily after Thanksgiving and sat down at the breakfast table. I just had to stop my thoughts wandering to Brother William constantly, otherwise I might as well pack my things and go. It all made no sense - after all, I had come to renew my life and get it in order, not to create new problems by feverishly dreaming of a man who was committed to celibacy. I would have to distract myself. No matter how.

After dinner Prior Lambert came up to me.

"Good morning, Dr. Watson - well, you have settled with us a little?"

"Good Morning. Yes, thank you, I was very warmly welcomed by all. What’s on for today?"

My answer seemed to please him, because he smiled and led me down a hallway, one side of which seemed to hold a number of offices, with a staircase leading down on the other side of the courtyard with its magnificent gardens, with quite an impressive number of flowers blooming despite the advanced season.

"You have a choice," he told me, "Either stick with our novices whose curriculum today, among other things, includes detailed introduction to our religious rule states, or participate in the apple harvest. I would think, given an alternative, that you would prefer the first one - in fact, you can pick apples anytime you want, you don’t need to join a convent to do that" he added with a wink.

This was the decision that sounded good to me. It would, after all, not hurt to learn a little more about the community. That I would also escape even the chance of an encounter with Brother William, of course, was only secondary in my thoughts. In the seminar room I again met brother Jonah, who beckoned me over happily; already I was convinced that I’d found a valuable companion in the young man, to help me on the way to self-knowledge. At the beginning I felt a little out of place, being the only one in civilian clothes among all the friars in their habits, but my unease did not last long, the teacher, Father Andrew, couldn’t be much older than I was, and was a true jokester. He knew how to infuse a rather dry topic with refreshing lightness, always made his students laugh, and made sure that the hours flew by.

As the day drew to a close, however, I was nervous. I had noted at lunch that Brother Jonah and I were on the chart tonight for kitchen service - along with Brother William. When we came into the kitchen, the curly-headed man was already bent over one of the countertops, slicing the bread for dinner while large kettles of water heated on the stove. He greeted us with a curt nod and gave the novice a sign that we were to get the dishes out of the cupboards and set the tables. I was more than happy because that meant that we could leave the room in which he was engaged in preparing food - so I no longer had to waste all my energy in trying not to stare incessantly.

"May I ask you something?" I blurted out as I set the plates on the tables, while Jonah followed with the cups.

"Sure, what is it?"

"I've noticed that many ... well, are very young here. I was just interested in what moved a young person today to ~~to~~ spend his life in the monastery. I mean - don’t get me wrong, I like it very well here, the way you stick together and help each other selflessly is really impressive and I can imagine how deep your faith is ingrained in each one of you ... but have you ever thought about a. .. "

I hesitated, did not know how to express my thoughts without insulting my conversation partner.

"A normal, down-home life, with a decent job and a pretty woman?" laughed the blond and looked at me cheerfully.

I blushed a little, he had met with his answer but the nail on the head. "Yes, something like that ..."

He looked a little thoughtful as he formulated his reply. "I started a computer science degree, but shortly before the final exams my mother was killed in a shootout. She was a social worker and had tried to mediate between two warring street gangs and was caught in the crossfire. My father never got over her death and hanged himself six months later, in the attic. "

I stared at the novice ~~s~~ , petrified in horror.

"That ... I'm terribly sorry," I mumbled in a vain attempt to put my sympathy in words.

"You shouldn’t be," he replied and immediately regained his familiar smile. "If this would not have happened, I would never know how much the love of God can change a person, if you are willing to indulge Him wholeheartedly. I had nothing to lose and have gained so much ... "

He looked as if he meant every single word exactly as he said it. I could not help but to admire this young man from the depths of my heart.

"And what about you?" He asked, catching me by surprise, although I had expected the question that this question would come up eventually. "What brings a seasoned man - a physician, in fact - to the monastery? Stress at work? Or are you not at peace with yourself? I don’t want to insinuate anything, but you seem a little lost sometimes, if I may say so openly ... "

Another hit. The men here seemed one and all to be extraordinary perceptive. And so I told my story, openly and honestly, as Brother Jonah had been to me. When I finished, he shook his head gently.

"That has to be bad," he muttered, "So - to kill a man just because he is considered 'enemy' ..."

"It's bad," I confirmed, "But it’s much worse when it eventually makes anything seem ok. When you blunt emotion and you don’t appreciate the value of a human life anymore. "

"God has promised to be on our path with us - but it was never the idea that it would be easy."

I nodded in agreement. An easy life was really rare. But people like Brother Jonah made it more bearable.

After Compline I retired to my room to read a little - after dinner, I took a book from the common room, the "Spiritual Exercises" of Ignatius of Loyola. Not exactly light fare for an absolute beginner like me, but a return to my relationship with God had been my focus in the last hours of the day. And there was, finally, a large number of competent persons who could provide advice and support to me, if appropriate, in case I stumbled on my way to self-awareness. In good spirits, I dropped on my bed, shoved the pillow in my back so I was comfortable and adjusted the bedside lamp so that the light fell on the pages of the book at a good angle, so that I did not have to contort myself. This time I would not go back to sleep before the night prayer. It was time to approach this challenge with the necessary seriousness ; I wanted to gain an advantage from my stay. And I was convinced that I was on the right track.

*

"Hello John."

The unexpected words made me cringe because I had not heard the door open, nor had I heard steps. I looked up and saw standing before me the tall monk with shiny black hair, who the day before had been completely absorbed in his scientific studies. Since then he’d taken little notice of me - and who with his greeting had just _broken his vow of silence_. His warm baritone voice took me completely by surprise.

"Hi, um ..." I cleared my throat, uncertain. "Brother William, right?"

The next moment, I mentally slapped myself for my stupid question; my opponent looked amused by my obvious embarrassment.

"Well," he chuckled, "William is my religious name, that's right -. I was baptized, however, with the name of Sherlock"

_An unusual name for an unusual person_ went through my head. As he stood there in his black habit with the hood thrown back, the slender, pale fingers clasped over the waist, looking at me with his pale blue eyes …

"I leave it all up to you what you want to call me."

Again, I snapped out of my thoughts, so unusual it was for me to hear this man speak. He noticed it and began quietly giggling, a noise that sounded more like a soothing hum with him.

"Why do you blush, Doctor?"

"How do you know that I'm a doctor?" I asked back in a hoarse voice, before I cleared my throat again. Why did this man so upset me?

"As Prior Lambert introduced me to you, he told you that we were all but colleagues - and I, as you already know, am working in the field of science and herbal medicine, so it seems likely that you pursue a medical profession. You are here to get away from your everyday life; you seek the peace and seclusion only a monastery could give you, so I'm assuming that you have a job that drains you, which has lot of stress - it’s obvious that you are working as a doctor in a larger hospital. However, your physique is not indicative of the typical clinician who gets too little sleep, and eats unhealthy food - you are, despite your small size, very strong and athletic but you seem to have neglected your training lately, maybe even abandoned it. I attribute this to your slight limp, which occurs sometimes. Psychosomatic, I'm afraid. But your therapist probably already said that. "

"How do you know I have a therapist?"

"I was about to come to that. Your skin has a light tan, but only on the face and hands. Since it is extremely unlikely that you keep your clothes on while sunbathing, I have to assume that you have professionally been outside a lot, in an area where you were exposed to strong sunlight. England is out for obvious reasons. So where could you practice a medical profession and simultaneously be physically challenged, while the sun burns down mercilessly on you? Well, that reminds me of the Royal Army Medical Corps. Then you were wounded, you returned to England and sought out on your physical recovery with a therapist to help get your mental problems under control, which so far you have not quite succeeded, otherwise you would probably not be here to ~~to~~ find himself. Now the only question is whether you were stationed in Afghanistan or Iraq, is it not?"

"Afghanistan ..." I replied stunned and stared at the monk with my mouth open, "But you can not possibly have seen all that. Prior Lambert must have told you ..."

"I have not seen it, I have _deduced_ it. And why do you think that I'd talk to Prior Lambert, breaking my vow of silence doing that, just to learn something about you? "

"You’re breaking it at this exact moment by talking to me."

"In this particular case I think it is exceptionally fitting. You have piqued my interest. "

"And that's why your vows does not apply to me?" I asked provocatively.

A mischievous grin crossed his face. "You will not betray me?"

I noticed that the young man’s right hand - unconsciously, it seemed to me - slipped over the white cord that was wrapped around his waist.

"What do the knots at your waist mean?"

"They stand for the three vows - poverty, chastity and obedience."

"It’s difficult for you to adhere to?"

He shrugged his shoulders indecisively . "Of course it’s difficult to be obedient if you notice that the superiors are obviously making stupid decisions..."

I could not help but laugh. "I had thought of one of the other vows ... But maybe you keep your vow of chastity similar to silence?"

Apparently I had struck a nerve, because my opponent turned abruptly.

"It's probably better if I leave you to your studies. Good night."

The door was pulled into the lock with a soft click and my visitor vanished. I could not help feeling that I had just ruined everything even before it had begun and I was ashamed to have made the headstrong and incredibly fascinating young cleric feel embarrassed or even angry with my thoughtless remark. I could only hope that I would have the opportunity to atone for this in the next few days.


	5. Chapter 5

It was only when the bell rang for morning prayer that I realized I must have fallen asleep after Brother William left. His nocturnal visit seemed strangely surreal in the cold light of dawn - had he even been here, in my room? Or had my mind, plagued by the unusual sleep pattern I’d experienced in the monastery, played a trick on me? I looked around for an indication that I had not imagined his presence, but of course I found nothing. Nevertheless, I was convinced that the encounter had to have actually occurred. After all, I could clearly remember his voice! Well ... at least I _thought_ so ... But how could I find out if I was not mistaken? Could I dare to simply approach him and start a conversation? He had told me his baptismal name so maybe I should address him thus? After all, he had left it up to me to choose …

I glanced at my alarm clock and realized that I had to hurry; I did not want to arrive late for morning praise and thereby draw unwanted attention to myself. Actually, I was coming here to get away from my everyday stress for a while - and now the exact opposite came to pass. I felt completely stressed out, both on a physical, as well as on the spiritual level since my thoughts only seemed to revolve around William. I knew it had to stop right away - but since the nocturnal encounter I was even more confused than ever. How could this go on when we regularly ran into each other during the day? Assuming that he was not avoiding me after I had affronted him in such overbearing manner. Now that I was alone and my mind seemed to function normally again, I was ashamed to the depths of my soul for my foolish infatuation. The fact that I had meant no harm and just wanted to tease him did not make things better. Even as I walked down the hallway to the church, I made a decision: I would apologize to Brother William at the next available opportunity. It was up to him whether he was willing to forgive me or not …

After the experience I had during yesterday's Mass at the sight of his curly head, I tried hard not to look at him now; as he moved along in the dimly lit church with the other brothers, as he sat down in his seat, the slender fingers leafing through the small prayer book and ... damn. Why, exactly, did this happen to me? As much as I tried, as he knelt before the Prior as he’d done the day before and accepted ~~and~~ the consecrated host, then rose in one fluid motion and withdrew in silent prayer to the choir, I involuntarily held my breath and could not detach my eyes from his slender body. The question of whether occasional adventures in Afghanistan had only been 'a phase,' as Ella had claimed, now no longer seemed appropriate as I had not previously felt for any woman as I did for this young monk. Wasn’t that supposed to mean something?

I had talked to my sister Harriet shortly before her marriage to Clara; it had actually started quite relaxed, with her impish grin accompanying the question of whether I eventually hoped to tie the knot, too. I had laughingly rejected her by saying that I was quite sure that this kind of lifestyle wouldn’t work for me. Suddenly she became obsessed with the idea of pairing me off with someone and zealously forged plans but this had ultimately been too much for me. I had already noticed the slight smell of gin when she hugged me in welcome and I decided to use her weakness against her, knowing that it was wrong, shabby in fact.

"Get your own life in order before you give advice to other people."

She took a step back, as if I had attacked her not only with words but physically. For a moment she was speechless, her lips moving silently like a fish out of water, but then she reached out and landed her fist on my nose. While I tried to stop the blood flow, she burst into tears, her face red with excitement and anger.

"How dare you criticize me? You of all people? The man who is to blame for all my misery? I was always there for you and what did you do? When I came out to Mom and Dad that I'm a lesbian? You just holed up in your room when they set me adrift. That’s a big brother everyone would love to have, eh, John? And yet I have always stood by your side, when you've borrowed money from me so you could pay your tuition fees, when I let you stay in my small flat when they expulsed you, too - and that’s how you thank me? Hm? For the first time in my life I am really happy and now you want to ruin that, just because you yourself are not able to have a normal relationship, for you, it is all just about fun - your colleague giving you a blowjob between surgery and lunch or whatever you do in your posh hospital to pass the time **-** just no emotional entanglements, God forbid! You are so ridiculous, John ... "

Her words still resonated in me. She had been unjust with her allegations, saying that I was not capable of a long-term relationship - but she’d been right about everything else. I did not take part in their wedding - I would not have run the risk of offending her again. I had to skip it. Only years later, when my departure for Afghanistan was imminent, did we see each other again. I had wanted to say goodbye to her, just in case. I texted her and picked a cafe as a meeting place but the moment when I sent the message, I was afraid that she might interpret it as an affront, as subliminal insinuation that a pub would be too great a temptation for her. She had answered with a simple 'okay' and promptly appeared, neatly dressed, her hair pinned up in a loose bun. The conversation went smoothly and without hostility, but we both knew that it would never be the same between us as before. If she knew what was going on right now within me ... she would probably think it only confirmed her opinion, that I was still incapable of relationships and therefore consumed with want for a man I could never have.

During breakfast, I never was so happy about the omnipresent silence as I was at that moment, because as soon as my eyes fell on Brother William, who barely touched the food on his plate and seemed to almost exclusively partake of tea today, I felt both hot and cold. In the next hour I would have a hard time dodging him, because along with Brother Jonah, we were on kitchen duty once again. I almost wished that the Order would have invested a small amount of its funds in the purchase of a dishwasher. However, since this was not the case, I found myself standing between the two young men in the kitchen again, after we had cleared the tables together. The tasks were clearly divided - William rinsed, I dried and Jonah put the dishes away in the cabinets.

I sighed softly and thus attracted the attention of Brother Jonah to me, looking at me quizzically and setting the plate down which he held in his hands.

"Is everything alright with you?"

"Yes, I ... have only just thought of my sister. Our relationship is not the best ..."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I hesitated. Did I?

"You don’t have to, of course, it was only an offer."

"No, it’s okay." I cleared my throat. Under no circumstances did I want to give the impression that there was in fact someone in whom I was interested right now - Brother William would have immediately _deduced_ , as he had called it, that it was himself. So I started talking about the disputes in our youth that had ultimately divided us and admitted to him that the relationship between us was still embittered.

"That's normal," Brother Jonah said eventually, "brothers and sisters argue, that's all that." He cast a knowing glance to Brother William that twisted his lips into a knowing grin. He seemed to laugh to himself. I was almost a little jealous that the two seemed to share a secret that I was not allowed to participate in.

"Why does this dispute with your sister still bother you? I thought you had reconciled." Jonah took up the issue again, as serious and caring as before.

"Because I'm afraid that she might be right. Maybe I'm really not in a position to get involved in a relationship. "

Next to me, a snort sounded and prompted me to turn to Brother William in astonishment. He appeared to be as deeply absorbed in his work as he had been before.

"I don’t expect a monk to understand such things," I shot a toxic look in his direction, suddenly angry that he seemed to judge my feelings.

Our eyes met, but I could not read what he was thinking in his blue-gray eyes, as I usually did with my patients. Fractions of a second later, he took up his work again and dropped the plate he had just washed off with an obviously intentionally loud clatter in the dish drainer. Jonah, who had watched the whole thing, just shook his head and left the room to wipe the tables. Now I was alone with him.

One plate after another found its way into the holder, so that I hardly kept up with the drying. I tried to keep up with his pace, but the more I strained myself, the more erratically I grabbed the plates, without looking at all - and suddenly I no longer felt the wet porcelain under my fingers, but warm skin slightly softened by water and detergent. Startled, I jerked back and knocked the plate I’d been reaching for to the floor. It burst into two halves, a clean break directly through the center and with no chips.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, crouched down and hurriedly picked up the pieces. Brother William did not move from the spot at all, but now he held out his hand to help me up. Very reluctantly I took it, felt the water run down our hands and slowly soak the narrow sleeve of his habit.

"Thank you," I breathed, my voice so rough that I myself could hardly understand.

Of course he did not answer, but he peered into my eyes, as if searching for an answer to a question that only he knew. And he held my hand a little too long.


	6. Chapter 6

"I have missed something, did I?"

Bobbing my head, I turned around too fast, as if Brother Jonah had caught me doing something forbidden. He reacted casually, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and shaking his head.

"John, what are we to do with you ..."

Before I could answer, he stood next to me, took the fragments of the broken plate out of my hand, threw it in the trash, grabbed the dish towel and started drying off the dishes.

"Let me, I ..."

"That's okay. I think you’re a little confused - and we still need our dishes." He patted me on the shoulder encouragingly then pushed me forcefully out of the kitchen. "I'll pick you up in time for lessons."

If I had not turned back at that very moment, I would have missed the look that was exchanged between the two men.

***

With my hands buried in the pockets of my jeans, I retreated to my room, deeply insecure after what I had just experienced, because now there were two things that occupied me: the way Brother William had looked at me - and his relationship with Jonah. The two men seemed to know each other amazingly well, because otherwise I could not explain the knowing smile that they had exchanged at the subject of sibling rivalries. For a brief moment it occurred to me, if it could be that the two were not merely brothers in terms of their religious affiliation, but might actually be blood relatives. I ruled that out quickly, for there was not the slightest evidence in their looks.

Jonah was a novice, thus he’d lived less than a year in this convent, as otherwise he would have already taken his profession - at least this was what I had learned as part of the novice class. Had Brother William decided only recently to take a vow of silence? Might they previously have known each other better? Or maybe I was not the only one with whom he took his obligations not-so-seriously? My head spun - I just did not understand what it was with this man. The way he represented himself to the outside world, how he conformed with the things his brethren told me about him, just did not fit the personal experiences that I myself had had with him. He was undoubtedly an extremely intelligent man who possessed many talents which he provided for the benefit of the order - but I had begun to have slight doubts in my heart about how Prior Lambert vaunted his deep spirituality. If his faith was important to him, and particularly with the religious life that he seemed to take so seriously - why had he broken his vow? Out of 'interest', as he had so candidly asserted? How it turned and twisted in my mind - the nocturnal visit he had paid me - it just did not fit into the picture. And I had a slow-creeping suspicion that I had imagined it all. It would not surprise me currently - the chemical equilibrium of my body was stirred up anew each time I met the curly head. 

It was time to face the truth and admit to the feelings which could no longer be denied: I was attracted to him. A lot. I wanted him in an almost primitive way and could not take his eyes away from his shapely body, my brain could not stop to let upon the images in my mind's eye, the hands that dug into dark curls and flawless pale skin under a sliding black habit. The thought sparked guilt in me, and I blushed and felt restless. I gritted my teeth until they gave off a resounding, unhealthy crunching. I only had one choice when it came to doing the right thing.

***

"John, what happened?"

Brother Jonah stood in the doorway, looking stunned as I stowed my clothes and my notebook in my bag.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Yes, but why is that?"

He came to me, grabbed me by the arm and turned me around to face him. "John, at least talk to me - what happened? Why do you want to leave us so suddenly? If I have done anything, if I have upset you, then ... "

He raised his hands helplessly and stared at me with big eyes.

"What? Upset? I ... no, Jonah, do not get it wrong, please, it has absolutely nothing to do with you. It is solely up to me. I have become aware of something that makes it impossible for me to stay any longer with you. I want to save you any ... unpleasantness. "

For the first time since I had met him, he looked sad.

"This is a pity. But of course it is your decision and if you want to leave, I will not stand in your way. "

The sight he offered as he left through the doorway, with his head hanging, was hard for me to bear.

"Jonah!"

I rushed over to him, grabbed his arm and catched him by his sleeve.

"Jonah, please - I do not want to disappoint you, especially not after what you've done for me. It is really not your fault, but ... "

I faltered. I could not tell him that….well, could I?

"What is it, then?"

"Brother William," I replied, knowing full well that he would not be satisfied with this answer.

"What about him? Is it because he was a little ... repellent before? You seemed to be quite relaxed as I came back into the kitchen, or have I been wrong there?"

"Well, as calm as one can be in his presence..." I muttered, hoping at the same moment that he had not heard me.

When he began to smile a moment later I realized that his hearing evidently worked flawlessly.

"He sometimes seems rather peculiar to outsiders who do not know him, and it certainly seems a little bit strange to people to get in contact with a man who committed himself to a life in silence, but ..."

"And there are no exceptions conceivable in which he would take a break from his vows?"

"Apart from confession - no."

He knew that I asked for a reason because his eyes looked a little alarmed.

"Has anything happened between the two of you?"

If I told him the truth, I would probably get Sher ...- brother William, I corrected myself hastily in thought - into trouble, so I gave him a simple 'No'.

"John, I don’t think I understand what you're getting at..."

Resigned, I shook my head. "I don’t really understand myself ..."

"Come, sit down again."

We went back into the room and sat side by side on the bed.

"You know that you are free to contact me anytime you feel sad or distressed, right?"

I nodded uncertainly, curious to see if he would say something more.

"My unqualified opinion is that something was set in motion since you got here - maybe you think, for example, about your relationship with your sister and if you're ready to get involved in a relationship with another person - I guess earlier you were simply lacking the time to think about it, right? "

I nodded again, just willing to let him go on.

"And now you want to go because these thoughts and feelings confuse you, because they’re disturbing you don’t feel able to handle them. Believe me, I fully understand, I went through this, too, when I came here. I even went to the Prior’s office after a few weeks with packed suitcases after two days and told him with great conviction that the monastic life didn’t suit me and I wanted to go home. "

Fascinated, I stared at him.

"But you stayed."

"Yes, I stayed."

"Why?"

"Because he asked me a question that aroused my ambition."

"What was that about?"

"He asked me what I thought was smarter - to face challenges or run away from them"

"Sounds like a rhetorical question."

"Exactly. And I'm not the type to run away from something. And you aren’t, either, I believe. Therefore, I now ask you the same question: do you want to try to face the challenge and fight the demons of your past or do you want to draw the line at this point?"

He raised his hand when I was about to answer.

"You don’t have to decide immediately. Above all, I do not want to push you in a certain direction. This is a decision that only you can make, all alone. I personally think that you can only benefit if you stay a little longer and you open your mind to these thoughts. Perhaps you could talk to one of the older brothers or with the novice master, for this is nothing new to them."

"It doesn’t seem unusual to you, either. If I wouldn’t know exactly that you really are a computer scientist, I would have rated you as a student of the socio-psychological direction by now... "

"It’s the same thing," chuckled the novice.

"Oh yes?"

"I funded my studies by a temporary job at the Microsoft service hotline - you have no idea of how much sensitivity you learn at that job every day. The phrase 'I'm sorry, but I cannot do anything more for your PC, you can only format the hard drive and reinstall the operating system now' has a similar effect on some people as dead pet. "

I could not help but laugh at his comparison.

"Thank you, Jonah."

He waved my gratitude aside.

"All right. Now, would you actually come to class with me or do you prefer to be on your own today? "

"I’ll come with you."

"Well then, hurry up!"


	7. Chapter 7

The subject of the novice lesson could not have been more appropriate - Father Andrew spoke of mercy and forgiveness and was not tired of reaffirming that they should be an indispensable part of charity to each one of us if we were angry with someone.

"By the way, you’ll find a phone in the office," Jonah whispered to me with a wink, "If you want to talk with Harriet."

"Thanks, but I'd rather do this in person rather than on the phone," I replied.

At first I had to fulfill a task within the monastery, which could also be classified as 'charity'.

I wandered through the ancient hallways of the monastery, took a look at the kitchen, looked out from the cloister into the spacious garden with its sea of flowers, rich fruit-bearing apple trees, and a small fountain in the middle. At the opposite end of the garden I even saw some beehives. My search finally led me to the library, where I found Brother William as I’d suspected, sitting at a long wooden table in the far corner of the room, inconspicuous nickel eyeglasses on the tip of his nose and fully absorbed in a thick, leather-bound book. I did not want to interrupt him in his studies, but I felt such an urgent need to apologize to him that I could not miss this chance.

As soon as I started toward him, I again felt the familiar lump in my throat. Actually, I thought I had finally left this stage behind me.

I cleared my throat as I stood before his table, but this did not help much; still my voice sounded hoarse and rough as if after a long cold.

"Brother William, I want to ... just listen to me for a moment, okay?"

I breathed deeply again, so as not to lose courage - if I had not already. Brother William put his glasses down, straightened his upper body, and looked at me expectantly. Did he already know why I wanted to talk to him? His gaze was inscrutable; it could express both curiosity and mockery and contempt. I could not figure it out. I cleared my throat again.

"I would like to apologize. What I told you was ... "

Just at that moment, the bell struck to call all in the monastery to midday prayer, interrupting me in the middle of the sentence. But instead of waiting at least for a moment, he left his book and disappeared towards the chapel.

That could not be true! But he would not be able to get out of the way so easily. I was determined to speak to him and the day was long. I had come here to give my life a new direction and I would immediately begin to follow the advice Jonah had given me. I would face the challenges of my life. Running away was for cowards. And God knew, I was not a coward. Despite all my emotions, I had something to clarify and even if Brother William was deliberately evading me - that I did not believe, because he had no reason to - I would not give up until I had said what I had to say.

You can not get away from me so easily …

As I slid into the church bench and opened the prayer book, I felt empowered for the first time that day, ready for what was coming. Full of fervor, I entered into the chorale of the brethren and at last felt that strong feeling of security and confidence that I had been seeking for so long. 

I also noticed that my mind was no longer fogged by recurring confusing thoughts of Brother William. A smile crept onto my lips; I was ready to open up to new experiences and become part of the community in the weeks ahead. This also meant for me that, however, I needed to settle existing differences, even if they really only existed for me. In fact, Brother William had not behaved differently to me than he had during our brief acquaintance; he was as kind-and as silent-as ever. Nevertheless, I now realized how much I had begun to put each of his gestures and the rare words literally - even his slight snort during the kitchen service had upset me to the extreme, while I probably would not have reacted at all if, for example, Brother Jonah had made a sound like that. 

That he - consciously or unconsciously - manipulated my feelings so much annoyed me beyond measure. And had I not come here to find peace and tranquility? If I had longed for chaos and strife, I would have simply stayed in the emergency room making life-or-death decisions under time pressure, with relatives screaming at me. No, now I would finally take care of the person I had so often neglected in the past: _myself_.

After lunch, I wanted to search for my mysterious monk but was intercepted by Father Andrew.

"I was told there was something that had strained you - if you would like to talk about it, I would be happy to help you."

"Someone?" I asked with a slight smile on my lips, which was promptly returned.

"You need to indulge Brother Jonah, he's always worried about others. Sometimes too much."

"No, no problem. He’s probably right, I can’t run away from my problems. It's just ... sometimes it’s not that easy. "

He nodded sympathetically, pointing to the direction of his office with intent. Grateful for the support, I followed him there.

The conversation we had afterwards slightly reminded me of my therapy sessions with Ella - whereat the serious difference was that Father Andrew listened attentively, instead of taking notes. Besides, he did not look at the clock again and again, also in clear contrast to Ella, but always let me talk. When I asked questions, he did not counter with other questions, but gave me a simple answer. Perhaps that was what I had ever been lacking in the doctor's office: Father Andrew treated me as a human being, not a source of irritation which could only be borne because he ensured the livelihood.

I left his office almost two hours later. Talking with Father Andrew was like a therapy session: I felt neither insecure nor pressured, had he had not assigned me any new tasks that I had to do in the next two weeks. The only task that lay ahead of me, I had taken on myself - I would look for Brother William.

It took me more than half an hour to find him in the garden. Without the help of an older brother, I would never have recognized him for his face was completely hidden by a beekeeper's hat while he worked on the beehives. White smoke rose from the beekeeper's whistle which stuck between his lips and enclosed him like a cloud.

"I thought only nuns wore veils," I joked as I approached him.

Through the thin fabric I could see his eyes screw up, but at the same time he was smiling. I wanted to approach him to watch him work, but he commanded me to stand where I was with his hand raised.

"I've never seen a beehive from close up," I explained in awe, trying to see something in spite of the distance.

He must have noticed my fascination, for he raised a finger to tell me that I might wait. He disappeared briefly in a nearby shed, from which he returned only a little later with a second beekeeper's hat and long, padded gloves that he handed me. He waited until I had put on the protective equipment, then grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me slowly to the beehives. Again he took the whistle in his mouth and blew a powerful smoke cloud in the direction of the baskets.

"Impressive," I whispered as he took out one of the frames and showed me the honeycombs inside, on which about twenty bees crawled hastily. I could have watched him work for hours on end but I would rather have spent the time learning about the fascinating animals from him. He was just pushing a flat bowl with a thick liquid solution into the back of the beehive when I spoke.

"Is that a kind of nutrient for the bees because they do not find enough food now?"

He nodded approvingly and I was glad to have done something right in his presence. Unfortunately his work was finished quickly. He closed the flap of the bee-basket, took off the gloves and the beekeeper's hat, and took back the protective clothing he had given to me. He stowed it all in the shed.

Just as I walked towards the direction of the cloister, he reached for my arm and forced me to stand still. I looked at him questioningly, until I realized that his gaze was fixed on my left upper arm, on which one little bee was crawling. Slowly, he pushed a finger over the fabric of my woolen sweater, waited until the little animal climbed over, and then carefully set it down at the entrance hole of the beehive. He came back with a bright smile, patted me on the shoulder, and accompanied me back inside the convent. I could only hope that it had escaped his notice, how tense I had been by his short touches. 

But, on the other hand, has there ever been something this man missed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an example of the bee smoker whistle mentioned, that goes in the beekeeper's mouth like a pipe:  
>  [beekeeper's whistle](http://www.bot-spot.de/spots/images/Wabenpruefung-400.JPG)


	8. Chapter 8

Our paths separated shortly thereafter, as vespers and supper time came along, so that we only met again in the lounge. Brother William came a little later than the other men but immediately steered purposefully to a tea table by the window on which Brother Jonah had already set up the chess board for a game. As if he were used to it, he took the seat with the white pieces and so had the first move. Jonah was able to keep up with this pace and before I knew it, Jonah's king had been brushed off the board with a loud rattle by William, who sat back and smiled at me.

Now the blond, demanding a rematch, breathed hard: "Again."

The chess pieces quickly found their way back to their starting positions and William opened the game with a move of one of his pawns. Jonah countered without any hesitation and would probably have continued the game at this rate if an older brother had not touched his shoulder.

"You’ve got mail, it’s been at the door for two days. Aren’t you interested?"

He turned around in surprise. "Who would write to me?"

The elder shrugged his shoulders. "I can not tell you, but it clearly has your name written on it."

The other monk handed a simple white envelope to him with a typewritten 'Brother Jonah' as the addressee; the _n_ was a bit faded, obviously the key was not working properly.

The blond took a quick look at it, then put the letter aside. "I have no relatives, my friends would not address their mail to 'Brother Jonah' and my birthday is only next week. I’ll take a look at it later, now I have to beat the great champion here in chess. "

He looked up at Brother William and thrust his last remaining bishop from the board with his knight. Still, I had the impression that he was strangely quiet for the rest of the evening.

William’s attitude toward Jonah had also changed drastically. He watched him with an earnest, anxious gaze and devoted himself only half-heartedly to the game. He seemed to lose the last game deliberately to make his opponent happy. Both men withdrew immediately, Jonah only nodding for goodbye.

I began to think about the always-so-helpful novice; What might have been in the letter, and why had he tossed it aside without reading it? I had not noticed where he had stuck the envelope, but it was no longer lying on the table.

Brother Francis, who always sat next to me at the dinner table, seemed to share my concern. "I’ve never seen him like this at all," he murmured, glancing after Jonah, who had just pulled the door closed behind him.

"Shouldn’t someone go after him?" I asked, puzzled, for it surprised me that the other brothers had been aware of his change of mood but apparently were not willing to go after him, although that might have been necessary.

Father Andrew, who had come in late, but as a novice master knew the brothers entrusted to him better than many others, shook his head with conviction.

"Let him have some time to himself, I think he needs it now. Brother William will take care of him. "

This statement perplexed me.

"Why him? I mean ... with his vow of silence, that's ... I don’t know, but I imagine it to be quite difficult. "

"Brother William is Jonah's mentor. They are very similar in a certain way, even if they differ strongly in character. Brother William is very self-centered, he is able to lose himself in his work for hours, completely forgetting the world around him. It’s his asset, that he can devote himself to a task with all his heart. Brother Jonah, on the other hand, is incredibly versatile and can adapt to new situations on very short notice. He has a wide range of talents but is very volatile - which is basically nothing bad, but Prior Lambert and I thought that if he was supported by Brother William, he might develop an even deeper faith and Brother William's peacefulness would be a good influence. And I am convinced that peace and silence are exactly what Brother Jonah needs now. He is agitated and cannot deal with things. Any conversation would be wrong now. It does you credit that you worry about him, but give him time until tomorrow, maybe the dark clouds will have dispersed, and if not, you can still offer him your support. "

"That sounds good. After doing so much for me, I would just like to return a bit of support to him. But that applies to so many people here - even to you, Father. "

Father Andrew waved aside with a smile. "You are supposed to experience something here that will help you in your everyday life. If this works - even better! By the way, I saw you with Brother William at the beehives. Do you enjoy beekeeping? "

"I honestly have never seen a swarm of bees close up and was curious. Brother William took his time to show me everything, it was a really nice gesture. It’s been incredibly fascinating. "

"He could show you a few things if you would like to help him out more often."

"I would love to do that but I do not want to bother him - I cannot guess when it’s too much for him."

"Yes, he's very quiet."

I must have responded to this comment with a rather stupid expression because Father Andrew burst out laughing.

"Well, that was probably not a very intelligent thing to say in the face of his vow, but I already knew him as a very calm and self-contained man when he came to us a year ago. He decided to take this vow very quickly, because he wanted to concentrate fully on his relationship with God - and some people can do it best if they are not distracted by conversations. "

"That makes sense ... wait, you said he had come here only a year ago?"

"Yes - why?"

"But then he would have to be a novice, too, or did I misunderstand you in class?"

"Not at all, the novitiate takes at least a year and before that, the postulate needs to be passed. But Brother William took his solemn profession two years ago - he came to us from a convent in Brittany, when it disbanded. "

"Is he a Frenchman?"

"No, he's an Englishman, but he spent a lot of his childhood in the north of France with his grandparents. His his parents traveled a lot. And at some point, then, apparently, he went back to where he grew up. "

The Father smiled at me mischievously.

"You two are getting along just fine, aren’t you?"

Was it so obvious? Or was his question simply meant in a friendly sense? I hoped for the latter, and answered accordingly.

"It fascinates me that he knows so much about nature, herbal medicine, beekeeping - these are not exactly topics with which one is normally occupied as a friar, right?"

"Everyone should bring in the talents given to him by the Lord, for the benefit of the community, and both medicinal herbs and honey are often of great use to us all. And as I said, if you would like to help Brother William occasionally, he would not mind. "

"I would like to do that very much."

"Then I will inform him as soon as possible and take this into consideration when assigning tasks."

"Thank you, Father."

Inwardly, I smiled as bright as the sun. I could spend more time with Brother William in the future ... Now, after our joint afternoon was so relaxing, I was really looking forward to it. I would have to see, of course, that my feelings did not get in the way, but in this respect I was now quite hopeful.

I still had some spare time before setting out for the complet, so I could go back to my room for a few quiet minutes. As soon as I opened the door, I saw the book that lay in the middle of my bed: _Basics of Beekeeping_.

Perhaps my presence was indeed welcome.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning began with a self-revelation during breakfast - I simply couldn’t get Brother Jonah's response to the letter out of my head. My attempts to take a look at him during the Complet or early mass had failed miserably because of the poor light conditions inside the church. Also, I was not sure if the fact that Brother William was assisting at the altar this morning and the way he gave the bread and wine to the Prior with graceful movements of his hands didn’t distract me a little.

But now he was sitting diagonally opposite to me, only a few seats away, stirring his tea thoughtfully; the sugar he had poured into the mug five minutes ago had long been dissolved and dispersed in the liquid. As if he had noticed my stare, he suddenly looked up at me. The corners of his mouth lifted up a tiny bit, but his expression was miles away from his otherwise familiar laughter. As if to show that he was doing well, he drank a large sip and pulled the bread basket over to take something to eat. But as hard as he tried to act normal, his movements betrayed him.

No sooner than the Prior stood up, and thus declared the breakfast finished, Jonah also jumped up and strode towards the exit. He jerked back as I laid a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was feeling alright.

"Yes, but ...", he stammered, embarrassed, trying again to overshadow the uncertainty with a smile, "I slept badly, that's all."

"If I can help you somehow..."

"No John, it's all right. I'm just tired, do not worry. "

"But I honestly have been worried about you since last night."

I gave him a serious look with raised brows, but did not want to say anything else. I was sure he understood that I was trying to make him talk to me, but we did not know each other well enough that I would have been able to push him any further. Still, I wished I could have done something for him, since he was obviously depressed.

The young man breathed deeply and straightened his shoulders. I often did this gesture myself and knew only too well what it meant. He wrestled with himself, fought an inner struggle, which he was afraid to lose. Now it was necessary to maintain as much attitude as possible.

"You are right," he admitted, "there was a small problem, but it is now being looked after. There is really no reason to feel worried or frightened. "

At that moment he must have seen someone, for he beamed and waved to a person who seemed to be behind my back.

"John, I think you're expected," he told me, nodding in the direction he had just looked at. Brother William stood there waiting for me.

"Have a nice day," Jonah exclaimed, before joining the other novices and heading to his classes as I slowly walked toward the slender, curly headed friar.

It was only when I was standing right in front of him that I realized how unjustly nature had distributed body size to us - he surpassed me by more than one head, so I felt like a frightened little schoolboy who was called to the rector. He, however, returned my almost timid greeting with a friendly nod, and went ahead into the garden.

I had begun to read the book that had been laid on my bed by someone yesterday evening. Well ... not _someone_. I was very sure it was Brother William himself, who had given it to me.

"You brought me the book, didn’t you?" I asked to be sure.

A gentle nod, paired with a questioning look.

"I've already read a little bit, but only the basics about beekeeping in general, the honey and the feeding so far."

This knowledge, I was sure, would never meet the high demands he had placed on himself and his work, if I could take the words of his fellow brothers for granted - and why would they lie to me? I could not escape the aura of perfection that seemed to surround him. How, then, would what I was doing ever be enough to ignite that tiny spark of recognition in his eyes once again, that he had showed to me yesterday afternoon? I had read the book until I had not been able to keep my eyes open any longer ... To my astonishment, he now gave me a benevolent look and led me immediately, as soon as I had put on the protective clothing, into his work. 

Before I knew what hit me, I was standing in front of the beehive, and Brother William gestured to me to open the lid and remove one of the frames. Cautiously, so as not to make a mistake, I followed the instructions he gave me with a few concise, but understandable, hand signals. He had once again taken the beekeeper's pipe and blew white smoke toward the bees. Eagerly, the tiny animals crawled along the honeycomb, and in my fascination I did not realize how his hand suddenly appeared next to mine and pointed to a bee that was bigger than the others.

"The Queen!" I whispered with excitement, looked at her for a moment as she crawled over the honeycombs, then put the frame back into its place at the behest of the friar. After I had checked all five beehives, the dark-haired man got proactive himself and took one of the frames, the honeycombs of which were almost all closed. He hung it in a stainless steel container and gestured for me to follow him back inside the monastery.

We entered a small room next to the kitchen, which had formerly been a storage room, but which was now home to two things: dried herbs, hanging from the ceiling in small bunches, and a barrel-like wooden utensil in a corner of the room that stood on the floor. Brother William walked over towards the strange-looking item and opened the lid.

"A honey extractor," I pointed out unnecessarily, watching him scrape the wax from the honeycombs, and then put the frame with the filled honeycombs into the stainless steel lined interior. He closed the lid again, stepped aside, and waved to me. On the side of the extractor was a small crank which started the device. He placed a small vessel under the opening at the bottom and I began to spin. It was, though there was only one frame inside, much more difficult than I expected - how could he manage to use the extractor when it was completely filled? It offered space for four frames, which if they were filled would be a considerable weight. Obviously I had been deceived by his lanky physique.

After a moment, he interrupted me by placing his hand on my shoulder. I paused, looked at him questioningly, then watched him carefully remove the frame from the extractor, turn it, and close the lid again. I continued my work until he repeated this action again after a few minutes.

Then it was finally done. Brother William lifted the vessel from the ground and placed it on a sideboard to his right, where a filter, a thin cloth, and several jugs stood ready. Again, he showed me what I had to do by hand gestures, and we sifted the coarser, wax-like residues from the pale yellow liquid, before it was again filtered through the cloth.

Fascinated, I looked at the golden liquid, which was now in a small clay pot. A few drops had dribbled, and they ran down slowly from the edge of the pitcher. He responded with lightning speed, caught it with the index finger of his right hand and held it to my lips. I was hot and cold at the same time, goose bumps spread out on my back, and yet I could not help but close my lips around his finger to suck up every little bit of honey in my mouth that could be tasted. His skin was so warm, the fluid on it so sweet - and his eyes so inscrutable that I thought I would drown in them.

I looked at him and realized that it was far from over.


	10. Chapter 10

Breathless, I stared at Brother William. If there had been a mirror in the room, I would probably have seen a man with reddened skin, dilated pupils, and trembling lips. I was dizzy and I had to lean against the cabinet behind me to pick up courage again - as inconspicuously as possible. The friar, however, did not seem to be finished with me. He had also leaned against a dresser, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and looked at me defiantly, his lips pulled up slightly in a mischievous smile. He raised his eyebrows and fixed me with his gaze, tilting his head slightly, as if he were expecting me to say something. I broke out in sweat and wiped one hand across my forehead and back through my hair restlessly. I cleared my throat, turned my eyes away and tapped non-existing lints from my sweater. The monk still stared at me, kept me in suspense a while longer - it seemed like hours - and then finally turned away. I could not see what he was doing, but I realised it as he turned back to me. He held the clay pot into which we had previously filled the honey and presented it to me like a precious treasure.

"That's not ..." I swallowed. "Thank you very much."

He nodded generously, then walked past me, brushing my arm as if by chance. I slowly followed him out into the hall, hardly daring to follow him, but he stopped suddenly. Again he raised his eyebrows, almost blaming this time, but I did not understand what he meant until he pointed to the clock on the wall above the entrance of the refectory. Ten to twelve - time for midday prayer. I had no choice but to continue to follow him, though at a reasonable distance.

_And do not lead us into temptation_. The thought came unbidden.

Easier said than done after all that came about between me and this man, who appeared even more mysterious to me with each of his gestures and looks, a few minutes ago. I did not understand why he behaved the way he did. I would have interpreted what had just happened as mutual attraction, but he was still a monk. I simply did not think he would seduce me, although his behavior seemed quite distinct. Even if the other friars praised his spiritual integrity so much, one did not behave that way among adults if one did not pursue clear intentions. Especially not among adult men.

_You have aroused my interest._

He had not said much during his nighttime visit, but the words were firmly anchored in my memory. I was still trying to continue the conversation, especially since I no longer had to fear that he was taking my comment amiss - on the contrary, what just happened seemed to me like a reasonable ground for suspecting.

I sat down in my usual place in one of the front rows and watched the monks’ entry into the choir. The calm and peace that came from this familiar sight also brought my own frightened spirit back to what was important. Even Brother William was now completely serious and focused on the fact that he was here to serve God.

As much as I tried, I could not combine these two pictures in my mind. It was not the famous two sides of a coin that the curly head revealed to me. I had the feeling of having met two completely different people: a serious, profound man whose spirituality was more important to him than all other things and who apparently had gained great respect within the convent within a very short time - and someone who was quite a scoundrel, with his inner child on display, and testing his limits by pushing his fellow men to their own. Or past, as in my case. I had fallen hopelessly for him - and at the same time I was absolutely certain that he could not have missed that.

Once again I was more than happy not to have to talk during lunch following the service. Too many things went through my head to concentrate on a normal conversation. I retired hastily to my room; I was not expected until the afternoon for lessons, and I wanted to try to get back to myself. My gaze fell upon the book Brother William had given me. Briefly, I thought about continuing reading it, but quickly rejected the idea because the thought of it revived images of this morning. His finger between my lips. How I had sucked on it, and my incisors had just slipped along the thin skin ... He had only briefly looked at me at our first meeting and had known so many things about me - what did he think of me? Even in my mind I was ashamed to admit it, but presumably he drew exactly the right conclusions …

When I entered the seminar room two hours later, the novices were already present. Jonah, too, who I had almost forgotten during the day, was sitting in his place, drawing on the edge of his writing pad with a ballpoint pen, I could see geometrical shapes, squiggles, and wavy lines that merged into one another in a confused pattern, but without making a recognizable picture.

"Hey."

I sat next to him and looked at him cheerfully.

"Hello John."

When he looked up, I was startled. His face was terribly pale, and had he had such dark circles under his eyes this morning?

"Jonah!"

I put a hand on his shoulder, wanting to make him turn toward me so I could take a closer look. Only then did I notice that he was trembling. Brother Francis joined us and looked at his fellow-brother, no less worried.

"Jonah, lie down, you looked so sick all morning... John, you're a doctor, couldn’t you talk to him?"

"Let me be, I'm fine," muttered the normally good-tempered blond. He tried to rise but had to sit down again immediately and held his head.

Alarmed, I reached for his arm, pushed the sleeve of his robe up and took his pulse while I put a hand on his forehead. His skin was warm, but not hot, the pulse slightly elevated, and he still held his head.

"Are you dizzy?"

"No. Well, yes, a little."

"You have headache?"

"Migraine," he murmured, took off his spectacles, blinked, sat up again and rubbed his left temple.

"How long already?"

"Three, maybe four hours."

"Known triggers?"

He shook his head vehemently, which he seemed to regret immediately. I noticed when someone was trying to lie to me, but if he did not want to tell me, especially in front of other people, then that was all right. I was a doctor, personal feelings did not keep me in my job.

"You probably slept too little. Come on, go to bed. "

I got up and tried to pull him up but he fought me, if only weakly. When Father Andrew entered the room at that moment, he seemed to be able to grasp the situation at once.

"Jonah, you’d better be in bed."

"But..."

"No objection, for today you are laid off, sleep it out, and if tomorrow is better for you, I'll see you tomorrow morning. John, may I take advantage of the fact that you are a doctor just this one time and ask you to accompany Brother Jonah to his room? "

"Of course, Father."

He nodded contentedly and began his lesson without further delay as I pulled Jonah's arm around my shoulder and accompanied him out.

"You don’t have to do that," he muttered, ashamed, but still let me help him down the stairs.

"I know I don’t have to. But I want to. "

Having arrived at the door, behind which were the sleeping rooms of the friars, I stopped, knowing that I did not have permission to access this area of the monastery.

"Thank you for escorting me."

The young man tried to smile and pulled away from me, but as soon he had touched the door latch, he began to stagger, leaned against the door frame, and held his head again.

"Damn ...", he cursed through clenched teeth and looked at me. "Could you perhaps accompany me a little further?"

"Sure."

Again I put his arm around my shoulder and helped him down the hall. I looked around inconspicuously. Everything here looked extremely simple: white walls with icons and illustrations of scenes from the Bible and the dark wooden doors typical of most of the corridors of the monastery. Small signs were placed on the same level, and they identified the monk who lived occupied the room: Brother Thomas, Brother Elijah, Brother Patrick, and diagonally opposite to the room we were now heading, Brother William. The door was wide open, but as curious as I was, it was clear to me that accompanying Jonah was prior to anything else. I took him to his room, looked around, and poured a glass of water after I discovered a bottle at the edge of the desk.

"Thank you."

He drained the glass in one gulp, then immediately fell to his bed.

"Do you suffer from this often?"

"No more lately."

"What does 'lately' mean?"

"It has not occurred since leaving university."

"Do you have medication that you can take for it?"

"I should rather not take anything," he murmured.

"Why?"

"I'm not doing well."

I realized it was best not to ask more. Besides, he should rest. A long conversation was surely the last thing that he needed.

After I had poured him a glass of water and placed it on his night table, I wished him a quick recovery and told him to call me at any time if he felt worse. He nodded and thanked me one last time, whereupon I left the room and closed the door quietly behind me.

I was just about to return to class when my eyes fell on Brother William’s room. The door was still half open, so I could easily see it from the corridor as soon as I was near the entrance. It was only a few yards from where I was, I could be …

A sound from the room signaled to me that my feet had been faster than my brain - I was already standing at the door, looking at Brother William, who was sitting at his desk, bending over a flat white object with a magnifying glass and tweezers. The realization of what he was doing made me freeze in the middle of my step.

"That ... that is the letter, Brother Jonah's letter! I saw him in the living room only yesterday! What do you want with it and why did you ... "

With unprecedented severity, William threw aside the magnifying glass and gave the envelope a push, which conveyed it to the other end of the desk, although its contents scattered onto the whole table.

I entered the almost sterile-looking room and approached him. I noticed that the room, unlike Brother Jonah's room - whose walls were painted in bright colors and had paintings of landscapes and two potted plants on the windowsill - contained hardly any personal objects. Aside from a pillow with the Union Jack on the head of his bed and a skull that sat on the bookshelf where it had a perfect view of the whole room.

"Is that real?" I asked, shocked. I had seen human skulls more than once - and this one looked damn real.

Brother William, who must have noticed my horror, grinned broadly, which was more than enough for me. I decided to turn back to the strange letter, or to what had just fallen out of the envelope.

"Are they ... seeds? Orange seeds or something like that? "

Fascinated by the letter’s unusual contents, I approached and tried to grab it, but the monk pushed the seeds together and into his slightly arched palm, poured them back into the envelope and carefully locked it in a drawer.

Apparently, I had gone too far. Brother William conveyed that to me with an angry glance.

"I’ll …better leave..." I muttered and quickly scrambled out into the corridor. Even if it did not matter to me - my curiosity was aroused and I burned to know what it was up with the letter ...


	11. Chapter 11

I had not seen much of Brother William or even Brother Jonah during the rest of the day - while the latter was probably staying in bed to get some rest as I told him, the former appeared in church, as usual, at prayer time and attended dinner as well, but apart from that, he was nowhere to be seen, especially not in the recreation room. He almost seemed to avoid me since my unwanted visit.

After finishing the complet, the monks usually retired to sleep until the bell rang to vigil and tore them out of their sleep again. I too had returned to my room and had wanted to rest, but as I had done the past few days, I could not find sleep so early in the evening. Normally, at such moments, I would have read something that would calm my mind until my eyes fell closed, but the only book that was currently on the table next to my bed was the one about the basics of beekeeping, which immediately took me back to thoughts of him - and the question of how I should behave toward him in the future. We simply didn’t have that much in common so there seemed to be nothing that could justify an everyday encounter; and since the bees didn’t need that much attention at the moment, my hopes of spending time with him during that chore disappeared. Even in his studies I could hardly help him. Although natural healing was an alternative medicine and there were certain similarities concerning our professions, I had never dealt with this subject in detail - I had spent most of my professional career in surgery and emergency medicine, areas where the use of herbal remedies was not necessarily advised or desired at all.

I did not know what to do now. In the past few days both he and Brother Jonah had become fixed points in my life within the walls of the monastery and now that I had neither the one or the other around me, I felt strangely deserted. I looked around, still looking for an answer, although I was not even sure I knew the question. 

I gazed at the Bible, which lay on the pile of information material. Had this not been one of the reasons why I had come here? The search for the faith that had enriched my life so much when I was young? And now I sat here admiring the faith of so many other people as they drew strength from it and evidently led a fulfilled life, and I was still occupied chiefly with the things that were not part of the monastic life: the life stories of the brethren, their motivation to turn their backs on their daily lives and to join this convent, my misguided feelings for Brother William, or the meaning of the letter that Jonah had thrown away.

A feeling of inner emptiness led me back into the dark church, where I had spent so much time in the last few days without my presence there having triggered anything worth mentioning in me. But now it was as if I were guided by invisible threads, unsure of what would await me - whether I expected anything at all! - and still I wasn’t able to resist the urge.

The high, wooden double doors of the west portal were closed but, as I noticed after a slight pressure on the brass latch, not locked. I pushed them open just far enough to slip through and close them silently behind me. I found myself underneath the organ mound in a small entrance area that was dimly illuminated by four ceiling lamps, with a small basin filled with holy water on the left, while on the right a wooden shelf held songbooks for guests. In fact, I had noticed that sometimes some people from the nearby village appeared, mostly old, single women. However, they brought singing-books with them, as I had already observed. 

It was almost an automatism that made me dip two fingers into the holy water, then made the sign of the cross over my forehead and upper body.

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I could not remember the last time I had consciously pronounced these words. Feeling strangely fulfilled, convinced that I was on the right path - wherever it might lead me. I walked further and further into the dark church, which at that hour was illuminated only by the lamps in the entrance, the Eternal Light before the tabernacle, and two large candles on the altar, which flashed there in unobtrusive glass vessels.

I sat down in one of the front benches and stared at the candle which, protected by blood-red glass, hung down from the ceiling in an elaborate gold frame, and cast the Lamb of God on the front of the tabernacle in a gentle light. The Eternal Light. Sign of the everlasting presence of God. Symbol of the Most Holy, concealed behind the closed door.

I could not avert my gaze, almost as if a voice from my past reminded me of how I had liked to visit the Sunday Mass. I thought back to the day when I first received Holy Communion.

It also reminded me too well of this terrible feeling which had taken possession of me when I first went to confession as a child. I had sweated blood and water, not knowing what to say; I’d started stuttering. The priest, however, apparently accustomed to such situations, had spoken to me gently and by careful questioning helped me conclude that I could finally tell from the depths of my heart what depressed me. Even today I remembered my confession that I had stolen some coins from my mother’s wallet. I had wanted to go to the movies with my friends and asked her for money, but my mother had replied that we could not afford it. I had been angry and had made a mess looking for her handbag when she was in the kitchen preparing the dinner - I found it where I’d expected and had snuck a few pounds. If she would not allow me this little joy, I would just take what I needed. When I returned from school the next day, my mother was strangely silent.

"I'm sorry I can not offer you anything better but my money was only enough for this," she said tersely, as she could only provide a small pot of vegetable soup for Harry and me. "I'll get my wages tomorrow, then I'll make up for this."

She turned away and left the room; she did not hide the fact that she cried from me nor from my sister. Never before had I felt so guilty. I had told the priest of this experience, and I was already expecting a stiff penance. Instead, he told me to repay the stolen money from my pocket money and apologize to my mother, which of course I did immediately.

Since then, my opinion on confession had changed. I remembered the feeling of relief that gripped me at the priest’s words. Whenever I had something on my mind that I could not talk to anyone else, I knew where to turn. Actually, I could compare this to my meetings with Ella - except for the fact that Ella could bill horrendous amounts for her services, but could not help me to get rid of my sins anyway. In this respect, the church clearly offered the more cost-effective solution. But I had not been to confession for a long time - most recently before my departure to Afghanistan, and at that time I did not know whether I would return alive. Possibly it was time to tackle the old habit again. Especially with Father Andrew; I had now built such a good relationship with him that I could imagine him as a confessor quite well.

Carefully, I groped for the confessional in the dark church, which was somewhat hidden in the side doorway. I pushed the heavy velvet curtain aside and slipped inside to find that everything was just as I remembered - even the smell of old wood and sweat was similar. Just as I pushed the curtain back and went into the side doorway, I heard a faint crackling, followed by frantic steps on exactly the same path I walked. I hurried back into the confessional and listened intently - I did not want to be seen here late in the evening but I was as eager to know who else was roving around here in the middle of the night.

"Shhhh, be quiet, or do you want them to hear you?" - A deep voice, emphasizing softly yet urgently.

"You promised you would help me!"

This voice was definitely familiar to me, only the speaker sounded strangely panicky, the voice at least an octave higher than usual.

"I'll help you but you have to tell me everything you know. "

"I've already told you everything!"

"You said no one knew you were here."

"I thought so too ... until yesterday."

"And yet you were threatened."

"We do not know what these seeds..."

"We do. In fact, I know it. I’ve researched. And my research makes me sure that you did not tell me the whole truth. "

"What do you mean?"

"There is a drug trafficking ring that usually operates from Northern Ireland and has its fingers in all sorts of dirty deals throughout the United Kingdom. These people are known to threaten people who are able to testify against their gang by sending orange pips and then clear them out of the way. So - is there something you want to tell me? "

My nerves were stretched thin - I had already recognized Brother Jonah in the voice, but now I knew who the person he was talking to was. Breathlessly I dug my fingers into the wood of the confessional and pushed my head through the curtain as far as I could without losing my balance. I listened intently to the silence but the conversation seemed to be stalled. Were the two men still here at all? Cautiously, I dared to move a little more, putting my foot on a narrow step directly in front of me - and the next moment I was startled by the noisy creak that my thoughtless step had caused.

"What was that?"

Again it was Brother Jonah's voice and he sounded frightened to death. The other man remained calm but suddenly he was in a hurry, as I could hear from the sudden rustle of robes.

"Come on, we have to get out of here."

Only seconds later, the side door, which led to the monks' private area, was quietly locked.


	12. Chapter 12

I stayed in my hiding place until I could be sure that the two men had left. Only when they’d disappeared through the door and the gap under it lay again in perfect blackness, could I be sure that they had also left the adjoining corridor. I scurried as inconspicuously as possible to the western portal through which I had entered the church. Although the guest rooms were on the opposite side of the building complex, I was still concerned I’d meet another person in the hallway. I had not been the one who had come to a secret meeting in the church in the middle of the night, yet I felt guilty. One does not secretly eavesdrop on other people - every child knew that!

Thoughtfully, I slipped back into my room, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it. I did not want to see or hear anyone. My eyes fell on the clock. Twenty past nine, there were still a few hours to go until the vigil - but did I really want to participate? I was undecided whether I was keen to meet Jonah and William - who I thought was the second interlocutor - in church. On the one hand, I was still ashamed of having overheard the two of them, on the other hand, I felt betrayed by the two men with whom I had built something which came very close to a friendship in the last few days. Or, as for Brother William, perhaps even more ... I was still shivering when I thought of his honey-coated finger between my lips. I did not need to pretend - whatever I had seen in him was probably never more than a perfidious game to figure out how I would react to such stimuli.

You have aroused my interest.

I snorted... Don’t make me laugh! And I was worried I'd hurt him with my snide remarks! In the end, he was the one who ran around and manipulated people. My gaze fell on the book that still lay on my bedside table. We had spent such wonderful hours together ... and now I doubted it was all true. Did I not have a ton of reasons to suspect him? How many times had he now violated his vow? That wasn’t something a person who took these things seriously would do. I dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. I would skip the vigil today.

*

Somehow during the night I had fallen asleep and awoke all the more frightened as the ringing of the bells ripped me from deep sleep. I got up and went straight to the church. My feelings of the last night had given way to a strange void; my mind seemed to have accepted that it was wrong to interfere in the private affairs of strangers, however much I felt the need to help whenever help was needed. But I had to accept it if this was not desired. And forget what I had involuntarily listened to, even if it was so worrying.

My eyes fell on the monks, who entered the church in pairs. The novices went directly behind the abbot, behind them the simple brethren followed, and the monks who had received the priestly ordination concluded the procession. I spotted Jonah, followed directly by William. The blond still seemed pale, while his mentor walked behind him with his back straight and step firm but seemed to be on his guard. His lips were tightly pressed together, his eyes sweeping inconspicuously back and forth as if they were scanning the room. For a short moment our eyes met. Did he know I was the one who had overheard him? His face was inscrutable and he did not seem to mind. Jonah, on the other hand ... The poor man looked terribly nervous, looked up again and again from his prayer book and, like William, looked around the room restlessly but he did not bother to hide his panic. His head jerked to the left and to the right, his eyes searched frantically, remained briefly on me, then went on to the other people present. A person in the back of the church seemed to be captivating his attention but he could not see him clearly through his glasses. He blinked, took off the visual aid, cleaned the glass unobtrusively on the sleeve of his habit, then tried it again. Inconspicuously I tried to look around but did not see much, as an older gentleman of stout stature two rows behind me blocked my view.

As the men and women moved forward to take communion, I decided to take a closer look at the rest of the worshipers but without letting Brother Jonah out of my sight. If there really was someone here whose presence worried him, Jonah would surely not sit quietly and not show a reaction. As he returned from the altar to the choir loft, he cast a fearful glance at the assembled church before he lowered himself onto his knees for silent prayer. Immediately it occurred to me that, unlike his confreres, he did not close his eyes but continued to look out over all those who formed a line before the altar steps, waiting for the the two fathers who distributed the consecrated host. To my astonishment, however, his face did not change. Had the person whom he had seen leave the church? With very heavy movements, he fell back to his seat, buried his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes. He looked terribly exhausted.

On my way to the refectory, my gaze fell on the schedule and I could see that I would be responsible for lunch together with Jonah and Brother Elijah, whom I had not yet met. I could only hope that they did not expect me to cook ... in my apartment the flyers of various take-out restaurants piled up for a reason. Nevertheless, I was quite willing to use the opportunity for a short conversation - if Jonah allowed it. As frightened as he had been since yesterday, it was quite possible that he was now trying to get rid of everything - and everyone.

I had not seen him all morning and when I arrived at the door of the kitchen area at eleven o'clock, I could not see the slightest trace of my companion. Instead, there was an older brother with thinning hair, who seemed vaguely familiar to me and introduced himself as Brother Elijah.

"So you are Doctor Watson," he greeted me, shaking my hand, "I do not think we had the pleasure of meeting each other yet. I am the cook here. "

"Oh, then I know now who I can thank for the excellent food."

He smirked. "You do not have to ingratiate yourself with me, just show me if you can get along with pots and pans."

I cleared my throat and glanced uncertainly around the room. "Honestly ... I'm not very good at cooking ..."

"That does not matter. I need someone who can peel potatoes and cut onions. Guess you'll get this, at least better than our dear Jonah - he'd almost cut his thumb in his last attempt. By the way - where is he? "

I shrugged and looked around the room, as if he had been hiding somewhere.  
"Maybe he's not healthy yet?" I suggested.

Brother Elijah shook his head.

"I do not believe that. I would rather point out that he just forgot that he is on kitchen duty today. There's been something up there lately with the boy, God knows what it is ... No matter. Please do me a favor, Doctor Watson. I need some fresh herbs for the food. Would you go into the garden and get them? I've already made a list for you ... "

Frowning, I went through the paper Brother Elijah had pressed into my hand.  
"Chervil...?"

"Looks like parsley. You know that, do you? "

I was not sure if the friar wanted to make fun of me or whether he really wanted to help me.

"Yes, I know it. Um ... I'm going to look for it. "

"And bring Jonah with you if you see him!"

I saluted jokingly.

"Will be done!"

On my way to the monastery garden, I passed a cellar staircase that I had not noticed before - presumably because the door had never before stood open as it was now. I wanted to take a quick look but then I realized again that I was not allowed to waste my time if the food should be ready in time. I turned back to my goal as I heard a loud clangor from the depths as if glass had burst. Now my curiosity won out and I sneaked down the stone steps carefully. At the bottom of the stairs there was an archway that was so low that even as small as I was, I had to duck my head. Directly behind it was a cellar vault of unpainted stone, on the side walls of which large oak barrels were stored. Apparently wine was also produced in this monastery. But where had the noise that had led me to descend into this room come from? I looked around, but could not see anything except rows of barrels - and a pair of black shoes that lurched behind one of those barrels.

Quickly I went to the end of the room to see what it was all about - and was frightened. In front of me was Brother Jonah, next to him a broken bottle, the blond hair at the back of his head bloodstained.


	13. Chapter 13

Hastily I rushed over to him, crouched beside him, and felt for his pulse - weak, but present. With the sleeve of my sweater I pushed the broken pieces of the cracked bottle aside to get closer then lifted his upper body so I could take a closer look at the wound on his head. I let out my breath, relieved. Only a flesh wound. But still, he was unconscious and that worried me. I thought about letting him lie here while I ran to get help, but I soon realized how nonsensical such behavior would be. After all, I had the appropriate knowledge of treatment of emergency patients - I was just missing the right equipment. I took a quick look at the motionless young monk and estimated his weight at about 70 kg. To go up the steep stairs would be difficult, but not impossible. Nevertheless, it would simplify the matter considerably if he were at least conscious, because that could facilitate the transport. An arm still around his back, I tapped him with my free hand again and again against his cheeks.

"Jonah, wake up, hey, open your eyes, everything will be fine."

Who could have done this to him? Even though I had learned of threats against him, I never thought that anyone could actually succeed in attacking him - especially here, within the monastery. Here, where not everyone could go in and out, just as he liked! I recalled the floor plan of the building complex. If someone wanted to gain access as an outsider, the only way to get in was through the southern portal of the monastery church, that the worshipers from the surrounding area always used when they wanted to enter and that was closed except for mass, or through the gate on the southwestern side of the monastery where I had rung at my arrival. But there a friar watched over the door every day and night, so that no one could come in unseen. This seemed quite reasonable given the fact that the old books in the library had an incalculable value, not to mention the relics and artifacts in the church. Would someone have been able to hide after the service and then sneak out - as I had the day before - through the western portal? I thought it was likely that a friar would go through the church after the mass, to put out candles, to see if everything was alright, whether someone had forgotten their umbrella in the bench, or had not put their hymns to their intended place.

But if it had not been an outsider who had attacked Jonah - then who? Apart from myself, there were no guests at the monastery. It was only through this circumstance that I had been much more involved in the life of the monks than was normally the case, Prior Lambert had informed me shortly after my arrival in a tone which made it clear that I was honored and should be grateful. Which I was, of course, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been permitted to join the friars in their recreation room and so I would never have experienced the joy of listening to Brother William playing the violin. I wouldn’t have seen Brother Jonah's response to the letter and all the dramatic developments that followed. This honor had not only brought positive things with it, for now Brother Jonah lay unconscious in front of me, and I was already wondering whether I might even be suspected by my presence in this cellar vault. But all these were things I could deal with later - now I had to get the young man revived, no matter how I should do it.

I checked his breathing. Had it so badly smelled of alcohol the entire time? Of course, this was a wine cellar but it was not the smell of wine that came to my nose but from something much stronger. And it was clearly coming from Brother Jonah. What had happened?

Again I tapped him on the cheeks and shook him gently by the shoulder - I suspected that he had suffered a concussion so I had to be careful not to go too far. At last my efforts seemed to be effective; the blond's eyelids began to tremble and very slowly, he opened his eyes, blinked and then immediately closed them again.

"Hey, hey, hey, don’t fall asleep," I said, trying to get him to sit up, "Stay with me, Jonah. Come on, look up, you can’t stay here. Jonah, look at me. Everything will be fine, but you must stay awake. "

Again, he tried to open his eyes and let me pull him up and lean his upper body against one of the barrels. My eyes glided over the surroundings, looking for a way to support me to pull Jonah to his feet. Only now did I see the blood that stuck at the edge of the barrel before which the young friar had lain. I had a completely new idea, and I reached for the broken bottle, which lay on the side of the boy. No blood. Not the smallest droplet. I held the lower part of the bottle under my nose and grimaced - gin, clearly. Except for a small sip, it had been completely emptied. The question from whom no longer bothered me. I could not tell exactly why it was, but the fact that he was drunk and obviously just fell made me incredibly angry. Yes, he did have some problems at the moment, but that was not a solution either.

"Come on," I grumbled, shoving away the shattered bottle, putting his arm around my shoulders and covering his waist with my other arm to pull him up, which he allowed without resistance.

"Open your eyes," I asked again, "Do you think you can walk if I support you?"  
A long-groaned moan that could mean anything or nothing escaped his throat, but he clung to me now instead of letting himself sink to the ground again, although he wavered threateningly. I tightened my grip and took a cautious step forward.

"Okay? Jonah, do you think you can walk up the stairs? Otherwise I'll have to get someone to carry you up."

He blinked again with his eyes and only then did I notice that he was not wearing his glasses. I looked around and soon saw them on the floor under a shelf - just how should I reach it, as long as the young monk clung to me? I groaned; this was far more difficult than I had imagined. Was the shelf stable enough to hold the weight of a grown man for a moment? I could only hope it would.

"Jonah, can you hold onto the shelf with your right hand? It's all right, I just have to bend over and I don’t want you to fall. Can you do it?"

He reached for the top shelf, nodded - and immediately vomited. If he had not been so drunk, I would have considered the diagnosis of 'concussion' positive. So, on the other hand, it was necessary to wait and, if necessary, to see a neurologist - but first I had to get Jonah out of this cellar! I leaned forward, reached for his glasses, pressed them to his nose, and grasped him with a strong grip. The young man belonged in bed as soon as possible.

After getting rid of at least some of the alcohol, it was easier for the blond to put one foot in front of the other so that together we could climb up the stairs. Back in the main building, the kitchen door opened, and Brother Elijah stepped out into the hallway, apparently somewhat displeased because I had not returned. When he spotted us, he stiffened in the middle of a step, became pale and made the sign of the cross.

"Great God, what happened?"

"Could you please call a doctor? Brother Jonah is injured, an open wound on the back of the head, suspicion of head trauma - is there a sick room and a first-aid kit? "

"Yes, down the hall, behind the administrative offices. I'll get a key. "

I was glad to find a chair in front of the office of Prior Lambert, where I was able to put the young man down until Brother Elijah returned with the key. Just at this moment, a door opened on the opposite side of the corridor, and Brother William stepped out. A brief glance at his brother's bloodstained head seemed to suffice as a justification to grab me by the shoulders and push me against the nearby wall.

"What did you do to him?" he hissed, slamming me against the wall again when I did not answer immediately.

"Sherrr-looock ...", it sounded long and drawn behind me and I saw how Jonah tried to sit up.

Immediately the curly headed man turned from me and stormed over to the blond, stopped in front of him, sucked in air once and made a disgusted face. It seemed as if he was going to pull Jonah up and take him with him, so I felt compelled to intervene again.

"No! He probably has a concussion."

The gaunt man stepped back uncertainly, looked at his fellow-brother, then at me, and then stormed out with an angry snort.


	14. Chapter 14

Brother Elijah returned soon after with the key and opened a door at the end of the corridor. Behind it was a large, bright room with two sick beds separated by a curtain. The whole wall the door sat in was taken up by cupboards with milk glass doors. The materials contained in them was not what I was accustomed to from my professional life but it was enough for the emergency first aid.

The cook helped me bring the injured novice back to the bed where he could finally lie down.

"No," I held him back as he was about to lay his head on the pillow, "On your side, I have to clean the wound. Careful, don’t move too fast. "

He did as he was told and turned his face to the window while Brother Elijah removed his shoes from his feet. I went on looking for disinfectant and dressing material, then bent to my job. As soon as I had touched the drenched scalp of the blond with a cotton ball wet with disinfectant, he gave a heart-rending cry and held his hands over his head.

I was aware that the liquid burned in the open wound but this didn’t get me any further.

"Jonah, please - that must be treated."

Without waiting for an answer, I pulled his arms aside and continued my work as he buried his face in the pillow. Brother Elijah appeared next to me with a bedside lamp and directed the light beam to the wound so I could check if there were any chippings in it - which was fortunately not the case. Still, the danger was not averted - the impact on the edge of the wine barrel had left a deep gash in the man’s scalp that had to be sewed. Unfortunately, I lacked the necessary supplies. 

It was not long before the emergency physician came in, who in wise foresight carried with him all the necessary supplies. The wound was sewn and then he checked Jonah's reflexes and his pupillary reaction.

"I would like to have a computer tomography performed to rule out cerebral haemorrhage," he said after completing the examination.

Jonah, if that was possible at all, went even paler.

"No! I'm not going to hospital! I don’t want to!"

The intensity of his reaction frightened me, so I decided to give him a good talk.  
"It's not that bad, just a brief examination, you don’t even have to stay there."

"I DO NOT WANT TO GO!"

The doctor looked at me and shrugged.

"I can not force anyone to get checked out."

"Jonah, would you at least agree to let me do some neurological examinations in the next few days? If any abnormalities arise, you can still go to hospital treatment. "

"I do not want to go to the hospital ..." His resistance had become much weaker.

"As long as your condition doesn’t get worse, you won’t need to. But you must be careful and rest. "

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Good."

The doctor and I had exchanged another look, then I thanked him and escorted him to the door.

The young monk seemed surprised that I had remained in the room, unlike the others. I pulled up a chair and sat down beside his bed. He suddenly looked much younger after Brother Elijah had helped him to take off his black scapular, and he was only wearing a white tunic that otherwise was hidden underneath. He looked at me questioningly from weary eyes.

"Why did you do that?" I wanted to know so I tried to calm down.

"What?" His voice was still slightly shaky; I knew this tone too well.

"Why did you get drunk out of your mind?"

He shrugged. "It helps me."

"Helps what?"

"To forget."

"Nothing can be so bad that you have to get drunk to not be confronted with it anymore. Alcohol is not a solution. Never."

"You have no idea ...", the blond muttered and turned away from me.

"Right, I have no idea what is upsetting you but I know where this binge can lead. One damages oneself to an extent which one can not estimate at all. And in the worst case, you harm others. "

"How do you know?"

I moved closer to his bed and brushed my hair back a little so that he could see the white scar.

"This is the spot where the broken bottle of whiskey caught me when my father beat me with it. I can be glad that he missed my eye by a hair's breadth, otherwise I would be blind on this eye," I replied, pointing my finger to the places that had actually been injured. I never talked about him. I did not even think of him as 'my father', but I did not know another way to make Jonah see what alcohol could do.

"At least you're alive," he muttered.

"What do you mean by that?"

"That I will die. They found me. And now they will kill me. Maybe I should spare them the effort and do it myself. "

I stared at him in horror. Even if I already knew that he was threatened - hearing these words, so completely without emotion, from his mouth was a new shock to me. But perhaps it was the only way to find out why he of all people, being so gentle and kind, should be getting death threads. Something had to have happened in his past, which now caught up with him, because honestly - why would anyone be interested in killing a monk?

"Jonah, what are you talking about? Who wants to kill you? "

Instead of answering, he turned away and stared out the window.

"Jonah, please - if that's true, we must inform the police immediately!"

"I can’t trust anyone," he grumbled, "Not even you."

I nodded, resigned, but hurt by his mistrust.

"Then I'll leave you alone now."

"Yes, go." His voice, only a low murmur before, grew louder. "Just leave me alone!"

"I'll see you again when you're sober."

Before that, however, there was something I had to clarify urgently, so I directed my steps towards the library. And there he sat, hidden in an alcove at the far end of the room, frantically digging in a pile of closely-written papers, running his fingers along the lines, taking notes, picking up a book from the pile to his left, leafing through it, picking up another book, and writing something again. Apparently he had not heard me come, for he shrank violently when I spoke to him.

"Can we talk to each other, please? And please - stop pretending to take your vow of silence seriously. That doesn’t stop you from talking to others. "

He furiously tore the reading glasses from his nose and hurled them on the table with force; I almost feared that the glasses would break.

I pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, my head sweeping over to him.

"If I am already suspected of doing anything, I should like to know what you accuse me of."

"Keep out of things that aren’t your business, Doctor."

"Oh, all of a sudden? After all, you were the one who sneaked into my room in the middle of the night because I aroused your interest! Has it not been you who held my hand while cleaning the dishes? And let me lick honey from your finger? "

It was evident to me that I had grown louder with my increasing indignation but it did not seem to bother the friar in the least.

"So?" He asked. His eyes had never seemed so cold to me.

"So? That's all you have to say? "

"What were you expecting? The fact that I have, on account of special circumstances, contravened my vow, also abdicate all other obligations which I have vowed to obey? Believe me, there is not the slightest reason for this. I will repent in due time for my transgressions, but it should be clear to you that it is not for you to judge my actions. I am not accountable to you. "

"Our perceptions seem to vary," I replied, suddenly quite calm. "After all, you presumed that I had harmed Brother Jonah while I just tried to help him."

He pushed his lower lip out petulantly, reminding me a little of a defiant child.  
"Even I can be wrong."

I gasped for air. "Well, you definitely were! Still, I'd like to know what's going on in this game! "

"You think all this is a game?" His eyes sparkled dangerously, and I unconsciously moved a little away from him; he actually scared me at that moment. "You should go before you get involved in things the extent of which you can not estimate."

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. "No. I can’t."

"You can’t?"

His penetrating glance rested on me, his forehead was creased with wrinkles. It seemed as if he was going to infiltrate my thoughts to look for an answer to his question. Suddenly his features relaxed and his lips opened, breathing a soft 'Oh'.

He leaned back in his chair and looked at me thoughtfully, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "You're probably not going to be a suspect any longer."

I did not understand. What did he think he had seen in me, and why did that erase his suspicion?

"A suspect?" I asked, trying to sound as uninvolved as possible.

"That does not matter now."

"Rather?"

He looked at me questioningly.

"I do not understand?"

"Neither do I. This is exactly my problem. You are always so mysterious with your alleged silence vows and your ... deductions and the secret meeting in the church, in the middle of the night ... "

His head jerked up.

"I knew it. You've been following me! Who do you think you are? "

He jumped up and for a moment I was afraid he would attack me again, then I heard the sound of a throat being cleared, loudly, from the door.

We both turned around and saw Prior Lambert, who stood with arms crossed in the doorway and reproachfully looked at us.

"Brother William - into my office. Immediately."


	15. Chapter 15

The friar gave a snide snort, but followed his superior, who gave me a disapproving look, out of the room without any further contradictions. I was aware that he’d stirred up trouble by talking with me and that I was not entirely innocent but on the other hand, he had been the one who had repeatedly violated his vow from the very start. No one had forced him to take the vow; couldn't one expect an adult man to consider the consequences of a widespread decision like this? I was ashamed of this thought, but inwardly it filled me with satisfaction that at last someone would bring him to terms. He had been so gentle and kind to me before, and so arrogant and repulsive in the past few hours, but that didn’t change my attitude toward him. And yes, it annoyed me that he treated me as if he suspected me of a crime even though, through his abilities, he had long been aware of the fact that the relationship between Brother Jonah and myself was just friendly.

His strange reaction during our conversation came back to my mind. What could he have seen in me that had caused his suspicions to disappear? Was it ... oh no. I could feel the blush of fire throbbing in my cheeks and then my whole body broke out in sweat. He could not possibly have realized that I.... On the other hand, I had presumably made him think that by speaking of the very intimate moments we had shared. 

He knew it. He knew what I felt for him and his only reaction was a breathy 'oh.'

But what does that mean? Was he simply relieved that my brain devoted itself to other things than planning a murder attack on his confreres, or …

"That's impossible..."

As if dazed, I rose from my seat and left the library to wander aimlessly through the corridors. It was almost noon and I felt a little guilty that I had left Brother Elijah alone with the food preparations but I knew that I was probably not a great help in my current condition. 

Too many confused thoughts filled my head and made me forget my surroundings so much that an opening door had almost hit my forehead. I started and stood aside, to see Brother William leave the Priors' office and, with his head down and his lips pressed together, passed me without even looking at me once. According to his facial expression, he had actually just received a telling-off and as much as I had had the sense that he would be reprimanded for his behavior - now I suddenly felt sorry for him. I was so distracted from seeing him that I did not even notice how Prior Lambert stepped in front of me.

"Doctor Watson, may I talk to you, please?"

I swallowed. Apparently Brother William was not the only one in trouble today. I followed the Prior to his office and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. He sighed, laid his folded hands on the table and looked at me.

"I don’t like to waste too much time with useless talk, so I want to get to the point. I don’t know what's going on between you and Brother William, and I'm not really concerned. But the matter is different when the interests of the Order are involved, and that is precisely what I worry about at the moment. "

I wanted to appeal but Prior Lambert raised his hand and commanded me to let him talk.

"Brother Elijah has told me that Brother William has been hard on you when you took care of Brother Jonah and I would like to apologize to you on behalf of our community for this incident. However, for me the question arises as to how it could ever get so far. I had already informed you on your arrival that Brother William took his vocation very seriously - and this also includes his vow of silence, that he has never violated. He has never communicated in any other way than through his violin playing - and suddenly I have to watch as you both blast each other with mutual accusations! "

The feeling of wanting to sink into the ground in shame suddenly overwhelmed me. Mutual accusations - how long had Prior Lambert been standing in the doorway? Had he heard how I had approached Brother William on his nightly visit to my room? Or the honey ...? Oh my God. My whole face felt like flame and I would liked to have fled immediately.

"I'm going to pack my things ..." I muttered, deeply ashamed. "Give Brother Jonah my regrets, will you?"

"I don’t want to throw you out, Doctor Watson."

I looked around, amazed. The Prior had raised his voice but he still sat just as still behind his desk as before.

"I can not punish you for Brother William making a mistake. However, I would be very concerned that such a thing is not repeated in the future. If you can assure me of this, then there is nothing more I will expect. "

I nodded, mute, unsure of what to answer. I wanted to justify my actions by the fact that it was not me who had been looking for Brother William’s closeness. It was already on my tongue but I swallowed the words down. I did not want to give Brother William any more trouble than he probably already had. And besides, I did not want to meet the generosity of the prior with a lie. 

He gave me a scrutinizing look before he devoted himself to the papers spread on his desk. "Go eat something, doctor. It was not an easy day for you, either. "

*

I had no thought for food after this conversation; my stomach still clenched at the thought of what Prior Lambert had heard of my conversation with Brother William. It could not be much different than it had looked. A little distance would probably not hurt both of us, so I vowed inwardly to hold back in the future and to stop making contact with him. Ultimately, reason prevailed - and it was clear that it was not appropriate to woo a man of God. 

Even though I was still wondering how far he would have gone - what might have evolved from our relationship - if the overwhelming events of the last days hadn’t happened. Was he really so serious with his faith that he could easily hide all the human feelings? Did he not he have weak moments in which he doubted his calling? Never? Doubts were only human, as were the emotions which had overwhelmingly overtaken him today. He did not seem to me to be the type of person who was able to handle such feelings. I had a completely new idea - what if he had just taken a vow of silence to distance himself from others? If this was the reason and not, as he had led all the others believe, his desire to build a deeper relationship with God - that would at least explain why he was breaking his silence for a few people. Such people who approached him in a certain way. As for Jonah, I was well aware that the two spent much time together; after all, William was his mentor. What did it mean then that he also involve me in the small circle of people he seemed to trust?

Lost in thought, I wandered along the cloister looking at the mosaic pattern of the floor slabs, the columns and arches of sandstone, and the garden behind with its colorful flowers which slowly and surely had to give way to autumn. At the other end of this idyllic spot I saw the beehives under the apple trees and I thought again of the time when I had tended these fascinating beings with Sherlock - brother William, I scolded myself again and again. It was only two days ago, but this episode seemed like a dream or the echo of another life. 

Sherlock ... SHERLOCK! I suddenly felt like scales fell from my eyes. Why had not I realized this before? Brother Jonah had addressed him with the name 'Sherlock' instead of calling him William, as he used to do otherwise! He was his mentor so I was not really surprised that Jonah knew his 'real' name, the name his parents had given him. But was it not explicitly the meaning of a religious name that one took leave of his old life to start a new one? Jonah had been falling-down-drunk - in this state he wasn’t thinking about such things, they were instinctive. Through the alcohol-induced impairment of the language center, one chose words and names that were familiar to one, simple words that were used regularly and which one did not have to think about for a long time. How likely was it that in such a state someone was addressed with a name that one actually no longer used? Especially if it was such an unusual name as 'Sherlock'? I was sure it was only done if you used this name often.

More and more pressing was the question whether the two men had known each other before. Could I dare to listen to Brother Jonah a little, without being suspicious? The idea that I could be jealous of Brother Jonah was completely absurd. Why should I? That's why I really didn’t have to worry ...


	16. Chapter 16

I decided not to see Brother Jonah until evening. He needed tranquility to recover and enough time to sleep off his intoxication or any attempt at a conversation would be doomed from the beginning. With a queasy feeling I now appeared at Vespers. Much too early, for there was no one in the gloomily illuminated church besides a novice who lit the candles, which were fastened in holders on the pillars that delimited the side aisles of the church. We knew each other by sight but I could not remember his name so we smiled and nodded at each other before I looked for a place on the outer edge. The silence, which I had always perceived as peaceful, seemed depressing right now. I heard a noise from outside the building that grew increasingly loud as the church grew darker - a rain front crossed the place and seemed to drown it. There was thunder in the distance. 

I flinched as the bells began to ring. The pews around me were still unoccupied. I shuddered. This place, which had become so familiar to me in the past few days, suddenly exhaled an almost menacing atmosphere caused by the storm and the events of the fading day, which still did not let me go. I could not tell what exactly it was, but I felt increasingly uncomfortable as it grew darker and darker in the church.

The door opened and the friars, led by Prior Lambert, entered the church. To my astonishment, I realized that Brother William was the last to take his place in the choir loft, but settled on the edge, while all the other men went to their usual places. I decided not to let myself be irritated; my interest in the young man had brought too much trouble to both him and myself. Nevertheless, it was noticeable that he would only passively participate in the service. It was only recently that I had discovered that there was also a plan for the liturgical ministry, which assigned certain tasks to each brother, such as the recitation of psalms or the service on the altar, and which was valid for one week. Brother William should have assisted the priest who led the Eucharistic celebration this week, as he had done on the preceding days - but now he stayed in his place, gazing into space, and seemed to hardly notice his surroundings. Was it worry about his protege Jonah, or was there something else?

After the end of the service the brothers left the church in two rows and gathered for dinner in the refectory - Brother William, however, was missing. At first I thought he had left for Brother Jonah to bring him his food, but then I saw one of the novices with a wooden tray that contained a soup bowl and a glass of water; he set out in the direction of the sick-room. In the dining room I looked around again and could not find the slightest trace of the man, who was almost painfully missing. Slowly I began to worry and longed for the evening gathering in the recreation room; I wanted to inquire after the whereabouts of Brother William and hoped that my questions would not excite too much attention.

The answer was different, however, than I expected. Brother Francis, whom I had asked because he was familiar with me from novice lessons, seemed almost embarrassed when I asked him whether there was any reason why Brother William had neither appeared for dinner nor was present. He avoided me, muttered that he did not know exactly what had happened, then retreated quickly behind the his daily newspaper.

"Brother William repents for a fault he has committed. He is excluded from active participation in worship and from the common meals until the end of the week. He seems to be fasting at the moment, for I have not seen him in the kitchen tonight," an elderly monk with thin, blond hair, who suddenly looked at me very attentively answered. "Is everything alright with you? You are so pale suddenly... "

"Circulation," I muttered, letting myself sink into a chair near me, "Must be the thunderstorm ..."

The man's features relaxed and he smiled sympathetically.

"I know. My artificial knee joint always causes problems when the weather changes. "

I nodded politely.

"More reliable than any weather forecast, right?"

"You know it, my boy."

It was hard for me to remain calm while knowing in the back of my head that Brother William's behavior had such serious consequences for him. Now I was truly sorry for him, especially since I had gotten off so lightly. I wondered if the other brothers were just as indifferent to his temporary exclusion as my conversation partner. At least Brother Francis had been quite distracted before, but that might have other reasons.

In order not to appear rude, I joined in the small talk before I rose.

"I want to look after Brother Jonah again," I explained my abrupt disappearance and received some glances. Greetings and blessings were given to me on my way out, then I headed in the direction of the sick-room.

Quietly, I opened the door so as not to wake the young man should he be asleep - which was indeed the case. I crept over to check on him at least superficially, and to see if there were signs of any worsening of his condition. I took a moment to notice that he was breathing quietly and that no abnormalities were recognizable. The tray on which his supper had been served stood almost untouched on the little wooden side table. The spoon had been used so I could assume that he had at least a little soup. I was about to clear the dishes and leave the room when I heard a faint rustle behind me. Jonah had turned around and his eyes opened a tiny split.

"Go back to sleep," I whispered, "I just wanted to see you briefly, I'll come back tomorrow."

"Stay," he replied softly, "I am alone half the day. A little company would be nice."

"But you just woke up. Don’t you want to rest?"

"You sound like I will be down a long time."

I pulled up a chair and sat down at his bed.

"I can’t tell exactly how long it will take to get back your health, but you should be in bed for at least three or four days."

Jonah sighed.

"Can you at least bring something to read? I'm bored to death ... "

I hesitated.

"Jonah, you've got a concussion, it's not a good idea to read now - you're overburdening your brain with it. It would be better if you were sleeping a lot. And if you would eat something. You hardly touched the soup. "

"I'm still feeling nauseous...", he complained and opened his eyes in sudden realization. "Could it be that I have thrown up right in front of your feet?"

I grimaced.

"Not only in front of my feet ..."

His face turned to a dark shade of pink and he made an effort to turn away.

"I'm terribly sorry ..." he muttered, half-swallowed the words.

"It’s alright," I reassured him, got up and went over to the cupboards on the wall. The usual remedies were available and so I found what I searched for quickly. I sat down on the bedside, opened the large orange plastic box, and shook out two small white tablets, which I handed the novice along with the water glass.

"Take this, it helps the nausea. I can give you something for the headache, too, then you will sleep better. "

As during his migraine attack, he refused. What reason could he have to resist so obstinately any form of medication, or even a hospital stay? I decided to ask him gently.

Jonah hesitated as long as he could, but when he realized I was not going to give up quickly, he sighed.

"Can I be sure that this will stay between us?"

"Naturally."

"I told you that I gave up my studies after my mother died." He hesitated. "It was a very difficult time for me. I have no brothers and sisters and my father fell into depression with grief, he was hardly approachable and I simply could not stand being at home anymore. Instead of studying for my exams, I'd been drifting. At first, my friends tried to help me, but they also had to think about their future and had no time and probably no desire to go out every night. I got to know new people - the sort of people who promise you heaven and earth and know that they will not keep their promises. I tried to deaden my pain by partying every night. But at some point a new day came and with it all the thoughts I tried to suppress so stubbornly. I just wanted to forget. And if you want to forget, and run with the wrong people, heroin seems like an acceptable alternative. "

He whispered the last words. I nodded sympathetically and reached for his trembling hand.

"And now you are afraid to relapse if you take painkillers."

A short nod.

"I admit, there is a certain risk that we should not take as long as you can make it. You can take the nausea tablets without concern, they have a different mode of action. "

Gratefully, the novice grabbed the pills and rinsed them with a sip of water. But shortly afterwards the doubts seemed to return.

"Do you condemn me for what I have done?"

Surprised, I shook my head.

"Why should I condemn you?"

"Because I am like your father. And I have listened to you, how much you detest him. "

I bit my lower lip and ran my hand through my hair, suddenly overwhelmed by the whole subject.

"You're not like him," I said quietly, "You've proved that people can change. You have managed to defeat your addiction. Now look at what has become of you! "

An uncertain smile.

"Yes, who would have thought that I would become a monk. Maybe having a near-death experience isn’t all bad ... "

On my questioning look, he gave me another glimpse into his past.

"The heroin my dealer sold me was badly contaminated. I lost consciousness and woke up again in hospital. The doctors said I had been clinically dead for three minutes. But when I woke up again, I had the overwhelming feeling that God saved me because he had something for me to do - I know it must sound absurd to you because it is your job to save lives, but .. . "

"Not at all. Sometimes it happens that a patient survives, although all of us have given up hope. And this is a miracle for me every time. "

"In any case, that was the moment when I decided to dedicate my life to God - after all, I would have lost it without his help. I made a commitment and when I got better, I settled some private affairs then asked to join the order. And I have not regretted it for a second. "

I smiled contentedly.

"I can see it in your eyes."

"I was received here with open arms, although everyone knew that I have had massive problems in my past. But from the beginning I was assured that it would be perfectly fine if I left my past life behind me. Nobody ever asked me to tell what problems plagued me but I would have found an open ear whenever I wanted to talk about it. "

"And then Brother William was destined to be your mentor?"

"Yes. And I am very happy about it, although it was a bit strange at the beginning when he took his vow of silence. "

"But you’ve known each other, haven’t you?"

Jonah frowned as if he did not understand how I came to this assumption.

"What makes you think that?"

"You called him 'Sherlock' when we were in the corridor."

Jonah shrugged, as if he did not understand the question.

"That’s his name. His baptismal name. "

"But you are talking to each other with your religious names ..."

Instead of answering, the blond changed the subject.

"Do you know what the name 'Sherlock' means?"

"No."

"'The one with the short cut hair'. I'm glad he does not honor his name, would be a shame about these locks ... "

"Probably."

Apparently it would not be so easy to get more information about the ever-mysterious brother William, as I had thought.

"Will he come to see me?" Jonah asked, his gaze shifting between hope and a glimmer of sadness.

I cleared my throat and did not know what to answer. He had such a high opinion of his mentor that I did not want to mention the dispute that preceded his expulsion and so I decided to tell him only half the truth.

"He was so shocked when he saw that you were hurt, that he violated his vow - and he wants to repent now. But I am sure that he will come as soon as he is himself again. "

"Oh ..." Jonah murmured, "I did not intend to cause such trouble..."

"It's not your fault. You did not hurt yourself. "

"But I've been deliberately drunk."

"I'm sure your supervisor will ignore it," I smirked, pointing to heaven, which gave the young man a smile. He looked sleepy so I decided to retire.

"You should really sleep now."

"Will you visit me again tomorrow? Otherwise, I’ll die of boredom. "

"I can’t allow that. I'll come back tomorrow. Sleep well!"

I stopped in the doorway and looked around at him.

"What is _your_ real name, by the way?"

"Victor."


	17. Chapter 17

I kept the promise I had given to Brother Jonah and visited him again the next morning. As I entered the room, I saw him kneel in his white tunic before his bed, the opened book of hours lying on the bed, and, gazing at the crucifix hanging on the wall above his bed, quietly muttering prayers. I just wanted to turn away and quietly leave the room and not disturb him as he loosened his intertwined fingers, crossed himself and slowly rose, with the headache obviously still causing him great difficulties.

"Now, please don’t say that you are keeping the prayer times despite your concussion."

Jonah jerked hard and turned to me.

"Goodness, John, you frightened me ..."

He sat down on the mattress, stretched his hand to the wooden chair on which I had sat yesterday evening and offered me the seat beside him.

"I’m serious about that, Jonah," I continued, unperturbed. "You need rest, you won’t feel good when you get up every few hours and kneel here for half an hour on the cold ground."

"It's important to me, though," he replied defiantly, "it's not like a normal job, where you can get sick and just lay around. It's not just my profession, but ... "

"... Your vocation, I know. But if you do not recover completely right now, you might meet your Creator sooner than you are fond of. So - off to bed. Shall I leave for a minute? "

The blond looked at me questioningly.

"I do not understand?"

"I just thought ... if you want to take off your clothes before you go to bed ..."

For the first time in a long time, his bell-like laughter sounded again.

"There's no need to worry about it, it's not customary to sleep undressed, we just take off our clothes for showers."

He fell abruptly silent and pressed a hand against his right temple. Alarmed, I jumped up, pressed his upper body onto the bed and also raised his legs onto the mattress. The small silver pocket flashlight that my colleague had used to check the pupil reflexes of our patient the day before was still on the night table - and I would use it again right now.

"Jonah, look at me and try not to squint."

I leaned over him, shining the flashlight into one eye, then into the other eye, the pupils contracting evenly - a good sign, after all. I asked him to stretch out his arms to the side and then touch the tip of his nose with his left and then with his right pointer finger. The right hand missed its goal.

"I couldn’t do that as a child as well," he tried to justify himself.

"Alright, without pathological findings. Although it would still be better if you would agree to have a computer tomography ... "

"No."

"Why not?"

I helplessly threw my hands into the air and stared at him blankly.

"The next hospital is about a 45 minutes drive away, the examination takes another 20 minutes and that’s it. You do not have to stay there, but we would be certain that there is no cerebral hemorrhage. "

"John, please -" he sighed, "I do not want to leave the monastery."

"We would be back in a few hours!"

Despite the obvious pain he felt, he shook his head.

"Whether or not I leave this convent, if only for a few hours, is not up for discussion. I'm sorry, John. I appreciate what you did for me, but this point is not negotiable. "

I gave up. Apparently there was no chance to talk him round when it came to leaving the monastery. But at least I wanted to know the reason.

"What are you afraid of, Jonah? Who is threatening you? "

"Why do you think that someone is threatening me?"

"You told me yesterday afternoon."

"John, I hit my head and I was drunk - I have no idea what I said, but I don’t think you should take it seriously, whatever it was."

"It's not just what you said yesterday."

He looked up at me, looking at me.

"Rather?"

Now it was time for a confession.

"Tuesday night I couldn’t sleep and I sat down in the church to rest. And at the same time ... I accidentally, I never intended to eavesdrop on anyone ... "

Realization dawned on his face, which seemed to lose all its color, but I did not let myself be bothered by it. He had told me things from his life that one would probably not even trust his best friend with. He deserved to know that I was also honest with him. I took a deep breath and braced myself for what was to came.

"I heard your conversation with Brother William. I'm sorry, Jonah, I didn’t want to hurt either your or his privacy ... "

I looked shyly at my conversation partner. He lay there mute, his lips so tightly pressed together that they glimmered almost bluish. A single tear peeled from the corner of his right eye and ran down his cheek before it fell into the pillow.

"Did you tell anyone about it?" He asked tonelessly, without looking at me.

"No. And I will not tell anyone about it either. I want to help you. But I can only do that if you can help me. "

He wiped his hand across his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"Do not blame me, John, you may be a good doctor, but you can’t help me with that."

"That may be, but if you’re threatened, why don’t you tell the police?"

The blond sniffed abjectly.

"The police ... As if they could help me. They haven’t even managed to arrest my mother’s murderer, when there were several witnesses who have the license tag of the perpetrators’ car ... "

I didn’t know how to react to this accusation but in some way, I could understand where his resentment came from.

"And what do you want to do now?" I asked cautiously.

He shrugged helplessly.

"I thought I was safe here ... I never thought they would find me here."

I thought about this briefly, to be able to process the new information.

"So that means you know who they are?"

"Not exactly, no."

"But they threaten you. Why?"

"I guess they want vengeance. I testified against one of them ... against my dealer, who sold me dirty stuff. It was supposed to be a sort of ending to my old life, but obviously the police were better in this particular case than ever before. However, a few days later I read in the paper that the police had picked up the whole gang. They were given an anonymous hint that gave them enough evidence within a very short time to find the backers and put them in prison for years. I just made my statement and then I came here, thinking I would be able to be done with all this. "

"And then Brother William took you under his wing."

I pretended not to notice how Jonah gasped, and continued, unmoved, "Why do you think he can help you? What qualifies him above all the others? What can he do better than the police could? "

"It was he who gave the police the decisive clue."

"So you already knew one another before."

The young man swallowed hard and clenched his fingers as if he had been seized by a spasm.

"You do not have to tell me, I just thought you might want to get rid of it ..."

I reached for his hand and gently massaged his knuckles to soothe him.

"All right, Jonah, everything's fine. Chill out. Sleep a little, it's not good when you get upset. I'll make you tea, and then ... "

"We were a couple."

I must have misunderstood what he just said. It could not be otherwise. This had to be a dream, my hunted spirit that could not come to rest in the last days making fun of me. Only now did I notice the shy look that the blond gave me.

"I'm sorry, I did not know you would react like that ... You don’t have to worry about me. Leave me alone if you want to, I'm used to it. "

Now it was up to me to clarify some things.

"No Jonah, you misunderstood something. I don’t have the slightest problem with it, I'm just ... surprised. And I don’t understand why you both went to the monastery, if you had a satisfying relationship. I mean ... that's so irrevocable ... "

"I wanted it. I wanted to start a new life. Could not have guessed that my old life would catch me here ... "

"But he stayed with you. Brother William. Sherlock. "

"No, not at the beginning. We argued because he didn’t accept my decision. I made my testimony in the hospital and informed him immediately about my decision to dedicate my life to God. And he went away without saying a word. During the entire detox, and after that, I did not hear from him, no one knew where he had gone, he seemed to be swallowed up by the earth. I was endlessly sad because I couldn’t say goodbye but then I began to realize it was an opportunity. The abrupt separation made it easier for me to distance myself from all this. I missed him - but as a friend, not as ... well, you know ... "

I nodded.

"Was it the same to him? Was it easier for him stay away, so as not to be tempted? "

Absentmindedly, Jonah, with one hand, gently stroked the cord that wrapped his waist-the cingulum, as I now knew-and touched the three knots in turn. I clearly remembered who and under which circumstances I had seen this gesture before. When he noticed my gaze, Jonah looked up at me.

"Sex was never important to him," he whispered.

"But it was to you?" I asked myself whether I had just crossed a line.

"I was a different person then. Now there are other things that count for me. "

"I just don’t understand why he also decided to go to the monastery - to come here, he had to know that he would see you again."

Jonah shrugged his shoulders unaware.

"He never told me. And I never asked. If he is serious with his vocation, and he has found the right path, then I will support him as much as I can. What was between us is no longer important. "

"Do you not ever remember your time together?"

"Of course I do, I owe him my life! If he had not found me back then, I would be dead. If not on the drugs, then by disease. "

I looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head.

"Let's not talk about it anymore. I've said too much already ... anyway, if I think about it, you probably know more about me now than my confessor! "

I returned his timid smile.

"It is possible, but the advantage is that my stay here is for a limited time and you do not have to see me again so you shouldn't regret that you entrusted me with these things."

"As long as I can rely on your silence I have no reason to regret it."

"You can count on me. In every sense."


	18. Chapter 18

After my visit to Brother Jonah, I needed two things: rest and time for myself. Time to sort my thoughts and process what had been said. I decided to take the morning off, as everyone seemed to be convinced that I, as a doctor, was going to take care of the injured friar. I deliberately avoided the other monks and voluntarily took longer detours so I reached my room a quarter of an hour later. I managed to slip in unseen and pushed the door closed behind me. I breathed a sigh of relief and for a moment I thought about locking the door, but then it came to my mind that I was the only guest at the moment, therefore it wasn’t likely that someone would enter my room. Sighing, I dropped onto my bed and just stared at the wall for a while.

I couldn’t deny that Jonah's confession had shaken me to the core. My heart beat faster whenever I thought of the idea that he and Brother William had been a couple. A thought which seemed to me to be completely absurd, but which now had to be the truth - for why should the novice lie to me in this matter? It had been obvious how uncomfortable he had been when he had confided to me, almost as if he was reckoning with me for a moment. Oh, if he only knew that he was not the only one who had to deal with his sexual orientation, or, as in my case, with the reactions of his fellows! 

Perhaps it redounded to my advantage that I was granted a certain respect as a doctor and a former soldier; yet I wondered how I would react if I were to be attacked because I loved a person of the same sex. Would I react as Jonah had done? Resigned, but understanding? Would I get angry? Justify myself? And might I have reacted differently when he told me about it? Perhaps I should have been more honest with him, told him of the experiences I had had in Afghanistan, when the nights were long and lonely? Should I have mentioned Harriet? No, not a good example. I had already told Jonah that we did not have a good relationship with each other and that she still insisted that I was incapable of having a relationship, but if he would have asked me whether her coming-out had an influence on our fraternal relationship, I would either have to admit to that or admit that I had not supported her when she needed my help most urgently. When I was honest with myself, I was still ashamed that I had crawled into my room instead of protecting her from our father. Nor did it help that, after her departure, I had become the favorite victim for his anger; my bad conscience still plagued me. 

My thoughts returned to the novice’s words. _We were a couple_. And they had slept together. Perhaps that was the tiny detail that had thrown me into a crisis, but it opened many questions, which now stormed me with force - and no one could answer. If Brother William was actually homosexual - how could I have allowed him to lick honey from my finger? I had always been reluctant to admit the gesture had sexual undertones, but could there be a different interpretation? My idea of the innocent, god-fearing monk was more or less destroyed and I found myself more convinced than ever that this man knew exactly what he was doing.

_You have aroused my interest_. These words, too, went through my head again and again, but the question now arose as to what kind of interest it was. I could not imagine that he - a man who voluntarily committed himself to a life of silence and chastity - had made tender advances toward me. And then, of course, there was that still, breathed _Oh_ , when I had spoken to him in the library and he had pierced me with his eyes, as if to penetrate the depths of my soul. He must have seen something in me, perhaps even something I could not see myself. During our second meeting, he had, within a moment, deduced my entire past from the few facts available to him. Had he realized that I felt drawn to him? My heartbeat accelerated, however, and my skin began to blaze, I breathed heavily, sweat broke out on my forehead and I ran almost panicky to the window, tore it open, bent out of the frame and breathed deeply several times. 

I glimpsed into the garden with the apple trees and for the first time I looked down consciously. I had been here for more than a week, and yet I had not even looked at what was on the other side of the window as I had only glanced at the part of the building on the opposite side: Facade of light stone that looked quite monotonous. I recalled the floorplan of the convent; only now did I notice that the rooms opposite my room had to be the cells of the friars. I tried to think back to the corridor which I had walked along with Brother Jonah when the migraine attack had struck him and which I, as a guest, wasn’t allowed to enter. We had come down from the novices’ seminar room in the attic, walked down a stone spiral staircase and then entered the corridor, which, from my window, was on the left; from there we had turned to the right and had entered the corridor reserved for the brothers as a private retreat. Brother Jonah's room was - I counted again in my mind - the fifth rooms on the left, on the side that was turned away from the courtyard. Brother William’s room had been diagonally opposite, a few meters away. It had to be the seventh room on the right side. 

My gaze wandered along the opposite wall while I counted the windows, soundless, with slightly open lips. Did I just imagine I could see a dark curly head in the window frame over there, about 50 meters away? I leaned forward a little, narrowed my eyes to be able to see past the sun glare, but now the dark silhouette I had just imagined seemed to have disappeared. 

I sighed. What was I doing here? Anyway, I could not escape the realization that I wanted this man - now that I knew that same-sex relationships were not alien to him, perhaps even more than ever before. Again and again I tried to persuade myself how wrong those images were that my mind developed at the mere thought of him, but somewhere in my heart a soft voice had come to life, which, like the a little devil, sat on my shoulder, telling me to try my luck.

_He is only here to protect his lover_ , the voice seemed to whisper to me, _But his lover no longer wants him because he now loves God ... Brother William is so lonely .... why don’t you go to him_?

"Damn it!"

I furiously slammed my fist on the window sill to silence the voice.

Again I stared out the window. A question remained that left me no rest. According to what Jonah had told me, the separation of the two had been the result of his decision to enter the monastery - Brother William had at that time been anything but enthusiastic about his decision - he had ended the contact and had not restored it ever since. And then, little more than a year later, he had appeared again on the scene - as a fully ordained monk. Even assuming that he had gone to France immediately after their separation, had joined a convent, successfully completed the novitiate and took his vows for a few years, this did not explain his motives, nor the astonishing speed at which he had completed his monastic education - and certainly not the fact that he had returned directly to England afterwards and had joined the community which his former partner also belonged to. 

Admittedly, I only drew my detective knowledge from the novels of Agatha Christie, but this one seemed quite odd to me. I also doubted the seriousness of his vows - well, maybe the aspect of celibacy would not really matter to him if Jonah's statement had been serious. He’d shown no real interest in ... well ... physical interaction. But as much as he and his fellow brothers seemed to proof different, I doubted that he would stick to his vow of silence after his conversation with Prior Lambert. He simply did not look like the type of man who could keep his mouth shut for a long time, especially when he felt the need to correct others.

If I could believe the words of the older brother, Brother William was still excluded from the common activities of the Order until tomorrow evening, so I had plenty of time to talk privately with him. And one thing he could rely on: I would remain obstinate.


	19. Chapter 19

I guessed Brother William was in the library but I only found Father Andrew there, obviously preparing his next lesson. He looked up from his notes and gave me a questioning look.

"Can I help you, John? You seem to be looking for something."

"Someone," I replied, and, to avoid misunderstandings, quickly added, "Brother William lent me a book, and I want to give it back to him."

Father Andrew leaned back and put a finger to his lips thoughtfully.

"Normally you would find him here around this time, unless he is devoted to herbalism, then you might find him in the garden. There is also a small shed right next to the kitchen where he occasionally researches the development of herbal remedies - some kind of laboratory, you know?"

The Father smiled. Apparently the idea of a pharmaceutically active brother of the Order seemed a little absurd. At the thought of it, quite different things came to mind - for example, that I already knew about the herb garden and the shed. It was doubtless near the room in which the honey extractor was situated. On my last visit, I had already noticed the dried herbs that hung in small bundles from the ceiling - but above all I thought of what had happened in this room between Brother William and myself. His honeyed finger in my mouth. Unconsciously, I ran my tongue over my lips. The priest looked at me so I hurriedly gave him an answer.

"I think I know that room. If I can’t find him there, I can give him the book after dinner tonight ..."

The novice master cleared his throat, as if what he had to say was not very pleasant to him.

"John, you know that Brother William is not participating in the common meals?"

"Yes I..."

Now it was up to me to clear my throat. I did not know why, but I didn’t like to talk about this. Something about this whole situation seemed terribly wrong. I felt as if my throat was closing up; maybe it was just the indisposition that I felt in the face of such discipline, but perhaps it was also a feeling of guilt because I too had been to blame for Brother William not being able to eat together with the other brothers and spend his free time with them. I took a deep breath.

"One of the brothers informed me of his exclusion."

The priest sighed.

"Exclusion is perhaps the wrong word, even if it is de facto an exclusion. He should have the opportunity to think about his behavior and to act differently in the future. Nevertheless, you should not regard it as a punishment, but rather as ... education."

I nodded, even though I didn’t believe that "educational" measures were necessary or even appropriate for an adult man.

"Well, then ... I'm going to look for him now," I announced, turning to go.

"Good luck! But you may also give it to me, I’d be pleased to pass it on to Brother William, if he has retired to his cell. You know I can't give you access to that part of the monastery."

"Of course, and I would never ask you to do this. I, um … I’ll try searching in the garden, a little fresh air can’t hurt ..."

Father Andrew nodded as I said good-bye, while a blush crept up my cheeks - he had to have noticed that I wasn’t holding a book ...

*

In the great garden, surrounded by the cloister, I found him; however, Brother William was not in the shed, but where I should have sought him much earlier - he was with his bees. For an almost endless moment, I just looked at him with his hat and veil, his gloves and his pipe, standing before the beehives, wrapped in white smoke and the black cloth of his habit. Dark curls on light skin surrounded by the delicate veil of the hat. A symphony in black and white. Lost in his activity, he had not seen me coming and jerked briefly when I stepped beside him and cleared my throat.

"Brother William, I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

He just shook his head silently and turned back to the animals, who were eagerly flying around us. I ducked away for a moment, as one of the little striped creatures came dangerously close to my cheek but otherwise I remained still. It amazed me that I was not afraid of stings but perhaps it was just the presence of this fascinating man who gave me such a sense of security that any thought of possible dangers immediately disappeared from my mind - even though he ignored me completely. I enjoyed the moment as long as I could - just the two of us, the bees and the spicy smell of burning herbs that escaped his pipe, white smoke swaths and first autumn leaves. It could have been almost romantic.

"Please, it's important."

His gaze flashed in all directions as if he was worried that someone could listen to our conversation. Two friars were walking along the cloister, apparently in a discussion, as the gestures of one of the men were telling. He looked after them until they disappeared around the corner, but then just shook his head again, quite uneasily, as if this gesture were too much communication. I sighed. Why did he suddenly act like that? What might the Prior have said to him that he was now shy, almost frightened? I began to worry. So far I had experienced him friendly, quick-witted, and even angry - but anxious? Was it the concern for Brother Jonah, whom he still protected? I could not imagine it was solitude - he lived in a rather retired mood, so this shouldn’t upset him that much. I just could not explain it and it seemed inconvenient to talk about the subject that really mattered to me. But there was something else I wanted to talk about.

"Would you at least listen to me?"

Again, I received no reply. Instead, he seemed to have regained his composure and continued to dedicate himself to his work in an almost meditative manner, raising his hand from time to time when I tried to approach, which, I told myself, was more likely due to the fact that I did not wear any protective clothing than to the fact that he did not want to talk to me or to have me near him.

"If Brother Jonah needs help, then I want to help him get it - so why not let it be me who helps him? I know I'm just a stranger who has nothing to do with the whole thing, but maybe that could be what’s needed? Perhaps I can look at it more objectively than you or Brother Jonah can?"

At last he listened, looked around, and even looked up at the windows above our heads. When he realized that the coast was clear and no one was watching us, he grabbed my arm and dragged me through a weathered wooden door into a room I knew - his "lab," as Father Andrew had called it. There were still small bundles of different herbs hanging from the ceiling by thin basting threads. Some of them I recognized right away, others were much harder for me to identify. Chamomile was there, St. John's wort, yarrow, and a plant that would probably have looked at home in no other place than in a monastery.

"Oh, seriously, Brother? Are you still using monk peppers today to dampen the sex drive?"

I could not resist a derisive grin; it all seemed to me like the confirmation of an old stereotype. The friar did not respond to it, instead he put down his beekeeper's hat and gloves and stowed everything in a closet. When I was no longer expecting an answer and wondering why he had brought me here at all, if he still could not speak to me, he surprised me at last.

"If I find your door unlocked tonight, we'll talk. Until then, you would do well to equal me and practice silence."

Without waiting for my reaction, he rushed away and left me with more questions than answers. But I already got used to that ...


	20. Chapter 20

Two sentences. There were only two sentences, spoken in his pleasant deep voice, a little rough from being used so rarely. And yet they took me completely by surprise. Why was he always acting so mysterious? Why did he insist on talking to me only at night when everyone was asleep? And why did he urge me to remain silent too? Did he feel harassed by my constant demands, or was he afraid that I would let something slip? Had Jonah even told him I'd overheard their conversation? It was late afternoon and I did not know how to pass the time until evening. For distraction, I decided to pay a visit to my patient again so that he was not really bored to death, as he had already predicted to me.

Only half-heartedly did I go to the refectory after supper, and chewed cheerlessly on a slice of bread; I felt no hunger, and the idea of the imminent conversation made my throat dry. My unusual behavior must have aroused attention because Brother Elijah took me aside.

"Is everything alright with you? You seem so distracted. "

I shook my head defiantly. "No, it's all right. I slept badly yesterday and now I’m so tired ... "

He seemed pleased, for he did not respond to my excuse, except for the fact that he was giving me a pat on the back. I sat down into the lounge and studied the daily newspaper in order to be left alone. I retreated to my room immediately after the end of the free time and the following Complet. Since everyone believed that I was tired and wanted to go to bed, at least nobody would disturb me.

Like a tiger in a cage, I paced around the little room. Any attempt to bridge the time until Brother Williams' presumed appearance failed and I was tired of waiting. Perhaps he had changed his mind and would not come at all! It was already after half past ten and my plan to get some sleep before the Vigil started had receded. I watched as the minute hand of my alarm clock moved towards twelve. He would not come; I was sure about that now. The Complet had finished at 20:40, and after that the friars had gone to bed. Even if he had waited until the floor had been quiet, to be able to go unnoticed, he would have been here already a long time ago. Either something had happened to him, or, more likely, he had simply changed his mind. 

With a soft click the hour hand of the alarm clock jumped to ten and I decided to go to bed. The day had been exhausting and I was too tired to keep my eyes open any longer so I slipped into my pajamas and under the blankets. I was about to float away into the land of dreams as I heard soft noises followed by a flickering light that lit the room. I blinked and just wanted to sit up as the door was closed with a soft click and the key was turned around. 

"Be dressed ready for service and keep your lamps burning, like servants waiting for their master to return from a wedding banquet, so that when he comes and knocks they can immediately open the door for him", quoted the well-known baritone voice. I watched intently as Brother William sat the candle which he held in his hands on the dresser, leaning against it and looking at me with arms crossed over his chest.

"You could just have taken a flashlight," I growled sleepily and sat up.

He shrugged.

"This seems more dramatic."

"Dramatic performances at night appeal to you, don’t they?"

A slight smile rolled around his lips

"Maybe."

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and looked up at him.

"Can’t you sit down? I'll get a stiff neck. "

"As long as it's just the neck ..." the dark-haired man said succinctly, but then he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of me so that our knees almost touched.

I blew out my breath as if I’d been on a long run, threw my hands in the air and shook my head, frustrated.

"Look, that's why I wanted to talk to you."

"What - your stiff neck?"

"No, your remarks! This and the way you play with me. "

"Why should I play with you?"

"How else am I supposed to interpret you allowing me to lick honey from your finger?"

He sighed.

"And now you believe I would allow you to do this to other parts of my body?"

I couldn’t do anything but stare at him. All the air seemed to have escaped from my lungs, and I felt as if I would faint at any moment. Brother William obviously hadn’t noticed it - or he just didn’t care. Instead of taking notice of my condition, he drew the bundle of chaste tree leaves which had previously been hung up to dry, from the depths of his garment, and threw it on my bed.

"I think you need this more urgently than anyone else here."

"No one forces me to live a celibate life," I countered without even looking at the herbs.

"Nobody forces me either," he replied, looking at me defiantly.

"Oh?"

I regained my composure and reached for the rope around his waist.

"And what about this?"

"This is a cincture, not a chastity belt."

"But should have a similar effect, right? At least mentally. "

Brother William snorted, amused.

"I do this based on free will. And you should know by now that I do not need any kind of support whatsoever. "

Apparently my facial expression clearly showed my confusion, for he at once made an explanation:

"You probably thought you were the only one who got his information in a morally ambiguous way, right? Well, I have to disappoint you - at least, the next time Brother Jonah unburdens his heart and talks about my past, maybe you should think about closing the window or at least look if anyone is in the garden. "

"You've been listening?"

"Don’t be indignant. Maybe you should consider yourself to use the confessional the way it was meant to be."

"Then we are even now."

"Probably."

He leaned back and crossed his legs while I leaned forward a bit, touching his knee by accident. I jerked back as if I had burned myself.

"Sorry," I muttered, but he waved my apologies aside.

"All right."

He smiled his unfathomable smile and I no longer knew what to say.

"I just don’t get it," I admitted wearily.

The smile became wider if possible.

"That’s great. It helps to keep up the tension "

I snorted, a little sympathetic, but did not reply. I wanted him to be the one to make the first step and talk to me about the things that mattered - but it seemed he wasn’t willing or even able to do so. Now, however, he looked at me in the warm light of the candle, tilted his head slightly, and studied my expression as if he were dissecting a frog - but fortunately he did not use a scalpel in my case.

"Now? What do you see?" I asked now because I simply could not bear the tension between us.

"Why did you come here, John?"

His voice was suddenly very gentle, as was his gaze, which rested on the light of the flickering candle, the pupils dilated unnaturally by the dim light.

Only by the dim light?

I swallowed unconsciously, because the whole situation suddenly seemed so personal and familiar, not only because he had renounced the formal salutation.

"Tell me, John."

"To find myself."

“So did you lose yourself?"

"I don't know."

My voice was scarcely more than a whisper when I looked away, ashamed. I could not look into his eyes for another second. Brother William, however, did not leave me alone; now he was the one who sighed.

"I don’t know if I am the right person to give you such advice, but I doubt that you will find what you are looking for here."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe that you are projecting things onto other people, drawing a picture of them that corresponds to your wishes, but that does not necessarily mean that the things you imagine are real."

"I just wanted to ..." I stammered, probably not far from being labeled as a nervous wreck by Brother William.

"I know exactly what you wanted - just as well as you know it does not work."

"I just wanted to help! If Brother Jonah is really threatened, then ... "

Brother William raised his hand, shaking his head.

"We both know that it was never really about Jonah."

"So to you it’s just a game," I whispered bitterly.

"It is not a game, it never was," he replied, his voice now unusually sharp, "It’s lethal. Literally. And we can not allow ourselves to make any mistakes. I’m honored that you want to help, but your help is totally useless as long as your mind is ruled by other things. I’m sure you are a good doctor and an equally good soldier, but if you really want to help, I must be able to rely on you to use your gifts without any distraction - and I have strong doubts about that at the moment. "

That hurt. Never before had I felt so useless, so humiliated as in this moment. The facial features of the dark-haired man still seemed soft and almost a little sad, but at the same time he was serious about what he’d said.

I sniffed softly, but then I finally managed to look at him.

"You're the one who brought me into this situation!" I complained to him in a hoarse voice, knowing how unjust and defiant my accusations sounded.

It seemed to me an eternity had passed since he’d smiled widely and had spoken decently - now the façade was slowly but unstoppably crumbling.

"I didn’t recognise that my behaviour bemused you so much," he replied softly and suddenly, distantly, rose and reached for the herbal bundle to make it disappear again in the folds of his habit, "I will try to prevent you from worrying about these things from now on. Good night."

Before I was even able to reply, he had pulled the door closed behind him and disappeared. I jumped up and rushed after him. He was far ahead of me with his long legs, but as he was about to turn the corner, I jumped forward, tried to get hold of his habit, but slipped onto the smooth stone tile and pulled him to the ground with me. The candle struck the floor with a dull sound but did not go out, so I could still see Brother William at least as a shadow when he sat up again.

"Please ...." I breathed, "Do you really mean that I've just made this up?"

Hesitantly, he rose and helped me up, then bent down, picked up the candle and held it between us, looking deeply into my eyes. This time I held his gaze consciously. His lip twitched as if he wanted to say something but instead he sighed softly, shaking his head gently.

"Oh John ...." he whispered, then suddenly stroked my hair tenderly, "I'm really sorry ..."

Then he disappeared into the darkness.


	21. Chapter 21

I rushed back to my room after Brother William’s unusual farewell and stared longingly out of the window, anxious to see the flickering candlelight glimmer in the still-dark room on the other side of the courtyard - but either he had put out the flame and slipped back into his cell in the dark, or he had not returned there. My gaze fell on the alarm clock, still ticking innocently on the night table. Shortly before eleven. I sank with a sigh to the edge of the bed and ran my hands over my face; I noticed that my fingertips were wet. Wet from the tears I had shed for his sake.

I’d never thought it would bother me like that to be rejected by a man who was out of my reach. My mind knew that there was no chance for me to win his love, but my heart still vehemently disagreed. Was he really not interested in me? Not the tiniest bit? It seemed I could still feel his hand in my hair, the warmth of his touch on my scalp - and the sudden cold, now that he was gone.

_I’m really sorry._

What was he sorry for? That he had awakened hopes in me that he was not able to fulfill? Or that he’d left me? I wished so much for the latter. Did it mean something that he’d taken the bundle of chaste tree leaves with him again? In my head a picture arose: him sitting on the edge of his bed the way I did right now, lifting a cup of freshly poured tea made from the dried berries of the chaste tree to his lips. As he thought of me, he quickly took a sip and pulled back briefly because he had burned his lip on the hot liquid. Perhaps he was also looking at the clock, thinking that we would meet again in the church for the Vigil in less than an hour. What did he think about it? Was he looking forward to the encounter with anxiety, or did he rejoice?

It was obligatory for him to show up. I was, on the other hand, only a guest, who would probably not really offend my hosts if I just overslept after a busy day and by doing so missed the nighttime prayer despite the bell-ringing. Once again, I glanced to the window on the other side of the building - everything was still dark. Once more I rose, pushed the curtains aside, and opened the window to remove the reflection of the light on my night stand in it. The night was cool and the air smelt of modern foliage, of dampness, of smoke - autumn had begun. The wind blew softly through the branches with a soft creaking; somewhere in the distance I could hear the faint roar of a brook. In the sky, millions of stars and between them the full moon shone with all its might and bathed the garden beneath me in a ghostly white light. But on the other side of the building there was still impenetrable darkness. I sighed, closed the window, and stood in the middle of the room. 

Actually, I did not want to meet him today, I was much too upset to be able to cope with this situation.

Oh, what was all this? I would skip the Vigil, I decided. I crawled under my covers again and turned my face towards the wall, away from the window; I did not want to be tempted to stare again. Perhaps William himself had long since gone to bed to get a little sleep. Or - and the thought now preyed on my mind very stubbornly - he had not arrived at all. Could it be that someone had intercepted him on the way? I was not comfortable with that thought. It was not forbidden to sneak through the corridors at night, but as he seemed to be under observation anyway, it might lead to unpleasant questions. But why did I care? He was an adult, he could take care of himself. And I would see tomorrow morning if he was alright.

The next morning was uneventful. Brother William, as usual, had appeared at early mass, and for the last time had taken his place at the extreme end of the choir stalls. I was secretly happy that his banishment would end with this evening, since he seemed extremely lost when he was not between the other brothers, but among those novices, who had only been part of the convent for a few months. He was also sitting in my direct range of vision, so I could not miss how absently he was behaving this morning. Tired, on the one hand, but also absent-minded; several times he did not respond to the psalms until after a short delay, and he seemed to be very ponderous when he fell to his knees for the silent prayer.

At breakfast he did not appear. When I cleaned the tables after the meal, I saw him scurry into the kitchen and disappear shortly afterwards with a single green apple. Stunned, I turned to Brother Elijah, who was just entering the refectory.

" _One_ Apple? No-one can live with just one apple ... "

The older monk shook his head.

"I told him that, but he refuses to take anything else. I was glad he ate some rice and vegetables yesterday. I'm really worried about him. It's time for him to eat with us again. "

Yes, it was ...

In the course of the morning, I decided to visit Brother Jonah and was glad to find him in bed. This time he was awake, leaning against his pillow upright, holding a sketchbook in his hands. When he heard the door creaking, he looked up and smiled at me.

"Hello John, nice to see you!"

"Hello Jonah. You seem to be doing better ... you're drawing? "

He smiled timidly.

"Well, I’m not sure if you can call it ‘drawing’ ... It’s nothing great ..."

"Can I see?"

"Sure."

He handed me his book and let me take a look at the pencil drawings he’d done to chase the boredom away. The first page held mainly motifs from nature - sketches of flowers from the monastery garden and an extremely detailed depiction of a hedgehog sitting next to the trunk of a tree and nibbling on pear that had probably fallen from the tree. I flipped the page to a portrait of the Virgin Mary, who looked out kindly with outspread arms. It was obviously an image of the statue that stood on a wooden pedestal between the two large windows in the novices’ classroom. I caught my breath at the next picture; it showed Brother William, who stood with his eyes closed between the fireplace and the bookshelf in the lounge and played his violin.

"That's ... extraordinary," I whispered awestruck, gently tracing the soft pencil lines with one finger.

"It’s yours," replied Jonah, smiling, "As a small reminder of your stay here."

"I can’t accept that!"

"Yes, you can and you will."

He took the book from my hand, tore the picture out, and held it to me.

"That would not have been...", I continued, but then I thought of something better. "Many Thanks."

"You are welcome."

Only now did I see that there was another picture under the sheet of paper he had just given me. It was evidently the drawing on which he had been working when I entered the room, for it was not quite finished yet; nevertheless, one could clearly identify who it would represent.

"Is that a picture of ..."

"... you, exactly."

The blond looked up at me, examined the drawing in his hands critically and then looked at me again.

"I am well aware that pride is a mortal sin, but you have to admit that I drew you quite well," he added with a wink, "maybe I'll give it to Brother William when I'm done with it."

I gasped for air; wanted to say something, but did not say anything while Jonah just looked at me with an unfathomable look.

"I'm not blind, you know?"

It did not sound like a reproach, yet I had the feeling that I had to justify myself, yet the words evaded me.

"I see how he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice - and I also see how sad he is. If you had met earlier ... "

"And ... you don’t care?" I asked skeptically, although I was aware that I indirectly admitted that I felt something for the dark-haired monk.

"No. My life is good the way it is. I am happy here. And I want him to be happy too. "

The kindness and empathy that he showed almost shamed me. They showed me how imperfect I was in comparison to him. I looked around the room, glad about every distraction that might be offered to me. Only then did I notice the little bouquet of flowers that stood on Jonah's bedside table - simple garden flowers of different colors, lovingly arranged in a simple, light-blue ceramic vase. When he noticed my look, he smiled.

"The other novices brought them to me this morning before they went to class. - Oh, I think I have not thanked you yet for your gift! Please excuse me, I was really happy, it's just so ... "

I raised a hand, and interrupted him.

"Wait a minute, what gift?"

He looked at me as if he did not understand what I was talking about.

"The chocolates! I did not even realize that you've been here before, must have slept pretty well ... And most importantly, I did not realize you knew that it’s my birthday. "

"Jonah, I didn’t have the slightest idea that today is your birthday! Believe me, if I had known that, I would have given you a present, but I didn’t know ... and I did not give you any chocolates, I'm sorry. I wish you all the best, but ... "

"But ... if the chocolates are not from you - from whom then? We usually do not give birthday presents to each oter here except for flowers or cakes - simple things you do not have to buy. "

"Can I see the chocolates?"

"Unfortunately not, I wanted to tell you straight - I am highly allergic to nuts and they are almost always contained in praline mixes, so I gave them to William this morning. He looked like he could use a little mood brightener. "

A tiny detail struck me.

"If it’s so bad, then surely your fellow brothers know of your allergy, don’t they?"

"Except for a few, with whom I do not have much contact, yes."

When he saw what I was getting at, he opened his eyes and jumped out of bed.

"We must go to see him!"

I tried to hold back Jonah but he freed himself with unimaginable force from my grip.

"Well, come on, we can’t lose any time!" He panicked, then gripped my arm to pull me with him, "He must not eat it, as long as we do not know who placed the chocolates on my night stand! "

I saw his urgency and followed him without asking any more questions. He hurried ahead of me, almost pushing an older brother who he met in the corridor out of the way. Without knocking, he tore open the door to Brother William's cell, slowing so fast that I just ran into him. Confused, I looked over his shoulder - before us sat the dark-haired monk at his desk, looking up from the notebook in which he was writing.

"Thank God!" Jonah exclaimed. He rushed over to his mentor and fell around his neck, which seemed to confuse the other man very much.

Immediately after he recovered, the novice looked around frantically, but did not find what he was looking for.

"The chocolates," he panted, again with slight panic in his voice, "Where are the chocolates?"

Quite leisurely, William opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out an inconspicuous, square box wrapped in light-green paper, which he handed over to Jonah.

Relieved, Jonah grabbed the lid and carefully opened the lid.

"Praise the Lord, I thought you had ..."

He fell silent in the middle of the sentence, his eyes wide. Three chocolates were missing.

"It does not have to mean anything," I tried to calm the young man and put a hand on his shoulder, "Maybe this is just a misunderstanding ..."

And that was what I believed. Why should it be impossible that someone just wanted to make Jonah happy on his birthday? Just now, when he was actually injured? It might as well be a gift from one of the other friars that had been deposited on his night stand, so as not to arouse the appearance that the novice was getting favors. Despite the threatening situation, I simply did not want to believe that someone wanted to kill him with poisoned chocolates - that just sounded too much like a bad crime, something that just did not happen in real life. I turned to Brother William for confirmation.

"Do you have any complaints? Stomach pain, digestive problems, nausea, dizziness? Motor problems? Maybe a tingling sensation in the extremities? "

He shook his head and looked attentively at me, as if waiting for more questions. I cleared my throat, unsure what my next question was, but I wanted Jonah to calm down.

"May I take your pulse?"

Without hesitation - and above all, without letting me out of his sight - he pushed the sleeve of his habit a little way up, and stretched out his pale, sinewy arm. I already felt the trembling of my hands, but I tried not to show it as I put my fingers around his narrow wrist and held my thumb on the artery and stared at my watch.

"Increased," I muttered, strangely out of breath.

"This may have other reasons," he replied softly, looking into my eyes.

"John, what about him?"

Jonah's voice brought me back to the present and made me turn towards him.

"I can’t find anything extraordinary," I replied, deliberately imprecise, as I was not quite sure whether William was just as much affected by my touch as I was by his.

Jonah ran his fingers through his hair and leaned against the door frame, exhausted.

"That'll be a bit too much for me ..." he whispered, causing the curly headed monk to rise and move towards him. He gently grabbed Jonah by the arm and led him over to the bed. Jonah sat in the middle with William on his left, myself on his right. The dark-haired monk stroked his back comfortingly, while I held a hand on his forearm. He needed just a little closeness and security, it was clear to me, though I only knew him very recently.

After a few minutes of quiet comfort, the novice had quieted and breathed a soft 'thank you'. He was about to get up when his gaze fell on Brother William and his face froze into a mask of terror. He pressed his hand to his mouth to suppress a scream and only then did I realize what frightened him:

Blood flowed from Brother Williams' right ear.


	22. Chapter 22

Slowly, as if in slow motion, William lifted his hand to the spot where both Jonah and I stared, wide-eyed, dipping the tip of his finger into the dark red liquid, then looking at it as if he did not understand what was going on. I could not watch it anymore.

"You have to go to hospital. Immediately."

"It can have all sorts of reasons ...", William replied. He rose lazily and searched for a handkerchief. He first cleaned his finger and his ear, looking into a small mirror attached to the side of his cupboard, then wiped the blood from his neck.

"Maybe" I replied, "Or someone poisoned you. And that's why I'll call for an ambulance now and have you taken to the nearest hospital. "

"Nonsense, I do not need any ... _oh_."

The curly headed man stared out of the window, closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again and blinked several more times.

"What is it?" Jonah asked, frightened, standing next to William and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I don’t know ... it's all so blurry, I can’t see clearly..."

He turned to me, but his eyes were fixed on a point right beside my head.

"John, maybe you're right - it might be better if you called an ambulance ..."

After that everything happened very fast. I took him by the arm and led him over to the bed, as he had done to Jonah earlier. Brother William's condition seemed to worsen with each passing minute and I preferred that he be lying down in case his circulation failed.

With a quick glance over my shoulder, I told Jonah to get help while I dealt with William, who insisted on sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I think I'll get sick if I lie down," the curly-haired monk mumbled, nervously rubbing his sweaty hair. Again his hand was covered in blood as he pulled it back. An expression of concern appeared on his face and grew steadily more serious.

"It's the ear again," I whispered, handing him the handkerchief he had previously thrown carelessly on the desk. I looked up.

"Jonah, why are you still here? He desperately needs medical help! "

"But ...", he stammered uncertainly, "you know what he needs, don’t _you_ want to ..."

The young man was trembling like a leaf but at the moment I lacked the patience to take that into account.

"JUST GO AND CALL AN AMBULANCE! Describe the symptoms to them and say that everything indicates poisoning, then they can come prepared. "

"Okay..." Finally he started moving. All I could hear was the swishing sound of his shoes on the wooden floor.

"You mustn’t be so hard on him, he has already lost his mother by the hand of a stranger."

I shook my head sadly.

"I know. And that's why I don’t want him to lose you, too. "

For a moment we both fell silent; it was an unpleasant silence and I did not know how to act towards him. He was not just any patient, he was ... what _was_ he to me? I looked closely at him. Had he always been so dreadfully pale? Had the circles under his eyes always been so dark? The hair so disheveled, his eyeballs so crisscrossed with red veins?

"Please, lie down ..." I pleaded and put my hands on his shoulders to press him down gently.

He blinked, apparently still not fully able to focus his gaze; his lips were nothing more than a thin line. They seemed to have lost all color.

"Do you feel like you are going to vomit?"

No answer, just a slight shake of the head, then he sank back into the pillow. I stayed at his side to intervene in case of emergency. I thought bitterly - could it be _more_ serious than it already was?

"How long has it been since you ate the chocolates?"

"Not long, maybe the half an hour ago."

I sighed softly. In case of poisoning, every second counted, even half an hour could be too long. After all, there was still a tiny glimmer of hope.

"Have you vomited since then?"

"Of course not," the dark-haired man snarled with the last bit of strength left to him, "Until recently, I didn’t have any symptoms that would indicate poisoning."

Hope dies last - in my case, however, it was just in mortal combat. The symptoms were too unspecific to risk forcing vomiting - the danger was too great that the poison would burn his esophagus and throat and even his respiratory tract. I wanted to do something; I despaired at the certainty that there was nothing I could do. It seemed like an invisible wall that I could not penetrate; instead, I watched helplessly as he grew weaker and weaker.

He sat up, suddenly shaken by a violent coughing fit. Without another thought, I moved closer and put an arm around his shoulders, propping him up and rubbing his back until he could breathe more calmly.

He dabbed his handkerchief over his lips - leaving new blood stains on it.

"I was fine until now ...", he murmured and looked at me, startled, as if only now realizing how bad off he was, "What happens now?"

"The poison probably began to spread in your body when you got up and moved."

"So this is how it feels to die ...", he mused in a tone that in no way revealed what was going on inside him; his eyes aimlessly wandered the room.

I shook my head vehemently.

"No, you'll recover," I whispered, pulling him closer.

Who cared about social conventions when it came to life and death? The thought that this could be the last time I could feel him so close terrified me. He didn’t seem to care, for he was now leaning his head against my shoulder and readily allowing the touch. Even through the thick cotton layers of his habit, I could feel him trembling. Involuntarily, memories of my time in the military returned; there, too, I had seen men who could disguise anything else, but at a certain point, approaching death, they panicked, screaming and crying and unable to calm down - and almost always their fright had proved to be justified and the worst had happened. I tried not to think about it any longer in order to be able to assist the man at my side. His head still rested on my shoulder; I leaned slightly against it, so I could feel its full curls through my thinning hair.

"Are you in pain?" I asked him in a helpless attempt to keep the conversation going.

He denied in a weak voice, but I didn’t have to be a trained medical practitioner to realize that he was lying. He coughed and I had trouble understanding him. His breathing was heavy and every word seemed to take an incredible effort, as if with every drop of blood a small piece of his vitality had left his body. What if he died in my arms before the ambulance arrived? I bit my lower lip to suppress my tears and dug my hand even harder into his upper arm.

"I asked a few days ago, the nearest hospital is about twenty minutes away from here. It won’t be too long until someone is here ... just hold on, you've made it so far," I said to him and was terrified by the sound of my own voice - as frightened as I sounded, I could not calm anyone! The young monk suddenly started mumbling to himself.

"What's going to happen to Jonah when I'm gone? I promised that I would protect him ... "

"And you will" I assured him, "you’ll be well again, I promise."

The look he gave me showed all the hopelessness that I now felt.

"Don’t promise anything you can’t keep."

Before I could argue, we both heard the sound of hurrying footsteps on the parquet floor of the hallway.

"Thank goodness," I mumbled and got up so the paramedics could take care of their patient right away. Even as I got up, I felt the light touch on my arm as the young monk tried with the last of his strength to hold me beside him before dropping his hand in resignation. It was the saddest thing I had ever seen.


	23. Chapter 23

The ambulance came and two paramedics stormed into the room, one of whom rolled in a stretcher. They immediately went into action, checking Brother William's vital signs, hoisting him onto the stretcher and pushing him out of the room, while I just stood and watched them - a role I couldn’t stand to play.

"Can I join him?" I asked the rescue physician, who pushed the stretcher with Brother William on it down the corridor, accompanied by one of the paramedics, but he only gave me a critical look.

"Are you a relative?"

"No, I..."

"Then you can’t join him."

"I'm his doctor!", I lied in despair, but even this argument did not make the man change his mind.

"At the moment _I_ am his doctor. You can call the clinic during the day, and if you can prove your claim that you’re his doctor, we’ll let you know how he’s doing. You know how it is with privacy. "

If the situation had not been so serious, I would have been incensed by the medical practitioner's rude refusal; but I just watched the three of them as they turned the corner and struggled to carry the stretcher down the narrow staircase without hurting Brother William. Soon they were completely out of sight and suddenly I did not know what to do anymore - I experienced a complete emptiness I had not felt since coming back to London from Afghanistan. I knew it was inappropriate but Brother William had grown so dear to me in the last few days that the mere thought of him dying in some hospital here in southern England, without a trusted friend by his side, tore me up inside. Of course, I could not deny that I would like to have been the familiar man at his side, but that was absolutely secondary at the moment.

"We should go to Prior Lambert so he can inform his family."

The soft voice in my back tore me out of my thoughts and made me flinch violently. Behind me stood Jonah, holding a small, leather-bound notebook in one hand, the other convulsively clawing at the fabric of his habit as if he needed something to hold on to.

I nodded in agreement; I had not thought of that at all.

"Then his parents are still alive?," I asked and could have slapped myself in the next moment - not only was this not unusual for a man in his early thirties, I had also completely forgotten Jonah’s parents weren’t alive anymore. However, he did not remark on my faux pas and began to leaf through the book.

"Yes, but I don’t know where they are at the moment. He just wrote down his brother's address and phone number here. "

The fact that William had a brother astonished me - someone who had such traits as those he had revealed to me, I would have rather considered the typical only child. But the entry in the elegant handwriting of my so passionately revered monk proved the opposite - Mycroft Holmes was written plainly there, including a mobile phone number and a London address - Hampstead, if I was not mistaken. I could not resist raising my eyebrows a little. If his brother could afford an apartment in such a posh neighborhood, the family must be extremely well-heeled. One more reason to wonder why William had renounced it all to go to the monastery.

However, before we left I wanted to convince myself that Jonah was really alright because he still looked very pale; and he was not well after his concussion even by far.

"Don’t you want to lie down again? Too much stress is anything but healthy for you. "

The blond snorted.

"There are more important things right now, John."

I knew exactly what he meant, but I still had to appeal to his reason if I did not want to blame myself for not having done everything to ensure his full recovery.

"You can do as little as I can right now. He's in good hands and I'm sure you'll get information from the Prior tonight that William is well and he'll be back soon. Don’t worry."

Jonah's entire body stiffened and he clenched his hands into fists.

"I'm not supposed to worry?" He replied sharply, "Seriously, John? Without me he would never have been in this position, without me he would not have to fight for his life - it's my damn fault he was poisoned, do you understand? If I had not given him those bloody chocolates, he would be perfectly healthy by now. If he dies, then it is my fault alone! "

He just stood there and let the tears that had sprung into his eyes run down his cheeks, without making the slightest effort to wipe them off.

I wanted to put a hand on his arm to calm him, but he knocked it away.

"Don’t touch me!"

I took a step back and raised my hands to show him that I would not cross the limit he set.

"Alright," I replied calmly, "I'm sorry, Jonah, I did not want to upset you."

I stood still for a moment, watching him, giving him the time he needed to regain his composure. It took a while but then he relaxed a little bit, wiping his sleeve over his eyes, breathing more evenly - for me, this was the sign to try again.

"Let's go to the Prior, okay? He needs to know what happened here. "

The novice nodded, dropped his head and sank down, as if the worst was yet to come. Silently, we walked side by side to the part of the building that housed the administration offices, including Prior Lambert's office. Jonah stopped in front of the door and looked at me hesitantly.

"I would like to explain this on my own, after all, I am responsible for all the trouble."

"Of course," I replied and nodded encouragingly, "But stop blaming yourself - you can not help it, you might as well have eaten the chocolates yourself. The one who sent them to you is the only one to blame. And that's why you should finally call the police now. "

"I'll see what the Prior thinks of the whole thing," he avoided me, knocking on the door. A soft ‘Come in’ came from within. 

Not knowing what else to do, I made my way to the sickroom to await the novice's return; the calm and concentration of pursuing a day-to-day task, however simple it might be, had been completely lost to me. His drawing notebook still sat on the bedside table next to the rumpled bed and I thought wistfully of how harmoniously that day had begun - and how I had been happy about the drawing of Brother William! But wait - where was the drawing that Jonah had made of his fellow brother and given to me? A slight hint of panic seized me; What if I lost it? Frantically, I looked around the room, trying to remember where I'd put it when we left the room together ... there it was! Lying innocently on the windowsill, lit by the deep autumn sun, which broke through the glass of the window and painted strange colorful patterns on the paper. I stared at the perfect pencil lines for what seemed like an eternity; they showed, in their entirety, the image of a man who seemed so in tune with himself that it was almost out of this world. I had heard him playing his violin only once, but the melody still sounded in my head, as if he were standing in front of me at that very moment, eliciting those charming sounds from his instrument. I began to hum softly, perhaps rocking a little bit and barely noticed how my throat tightened. Like a mantra I mumbled his name and ran my fingers over the paper until I finally managed to avert my gaze and look out into the garden. The leaves had turned reddish and were whirled through the air by the gentle wind. My eyes fell on the beehives in the far corner of the garden. It could all have been so nice; we could have spend a wonderful time together ... but life was rarely fair.

I heard the door open behind me. Jonah came in and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

"What happened?"

"I can’t go to see him."

"You talked to the doctor?"

"No, to the Prior. He won’t let me to go him."

"But why not?"

"He thinks I'm not in the right condition to visit him right now."

Admittedly - that was probably not wrong on the Prior’s part. Nevertheless, I found it extremely unfair to forbid Jonah having contact with his allegedly seriously ill brother.

"And if you go anyway?"

Jonah shook his head.

"I have vowed obedience - if Prior Lambert forbids me to visit him, then I will stay here."

As he sat there, his eyes fixed on his hands folded in his lap, he was an allegory of misery. It was so unfair! For the first time, I seriously wondered why someone volunteered to do such a thing. I realized that living together required certain rules, as well as someone who enforced them - but in my opinion this was clearly going too far. What if the worst of all cases occurred and for William, help really had come too late? If he died without Jonah having the chance to say goodbye to him? Anger gathered in my stomach and burned my insides. I would not just accept that decision. 

"My car is in the visitors’ parking lot. I'll get you to the hospital, we'll be back tonight, no one will know you were gone. "

I was so convicted in my idea that I could not understand why the blond shook his head.

"No, John."

No further explanation, just a simple _no_.

"I don’t understand you," I admitted, sitting next to the novice.

"You don’t have to. For now, it would be enough for me if you helped me take my things back to my room. I feel so isolated here, I want to have other people around me again. "

Although I could understand this point, at the same time it meant that I could not visit Jonah then, since I still had no access to the private quarters of the monks. And right now he seemed to be my only solace. I was well aware of how selfish my behavior was, but that did not stop me from resorting to a ruse.

"Stay here at least another day or two. You need to sleep, it does not help when there's such a commotion in the corridor in the middle of the night, when everyone else is going to the Vigil. "

"You hardly hear the noise."

"No Jonah - doctor’s orders. Stay here and rest. At least today and tomorrow. Until ... well, until we know how William is doing. "

He just shrugged and sighed softly.

"If I have to ... but first I will go over to the church and pray for him - I will not let anyone stop me doing that."

*

As Jonah set off, I went to my room to stow the drawing safely - after all, it was the only memory of Brother William that would stay with me when I returned home. Home to my boring, monotonous life and my superficial friends who did not deserve that title. Everything was different here. People who barely knew me had taken me in, integrated me without hesitation into their daily lives and opened their hearts to me. However, when I thought back to my last conversation with Jonah, I became painfully aware of the price this cooperation could sometimes have - the needs of the individual were secondary, what mattered was only the good of the community. In the long run that would probably have been no alternative for me.

I waited until the ringing of the bell, then I went to the noon prayer in the church. The process did not differ from the other days until Prior Lambert rose after the closing prayer and addressed the brothers present. He explained briefly and unceremoniously that Brother William had been hospitalized in the morning with severe medical conditions and would now be treated there. A low murmur went through the rows; only Jonah sat in his seat, stony-faced, staring at the floor. The Prior cleared his throat to make himself heard again.

"Dear brothers, I would like to ask all of you for your prayer for Brother William. His condition is serious and it is uncertain when and if he can ever return to us."

Unexpectedly, Jonah got up and addressed the Prior.

"What do you mean by 'whether he can return'?"

"Brother William is in a coma."


	24. Chapter 24

Ch 24

I almost feared that this message would finally kill Jonah - but the opposite was the case. Completely calm, he lowered himself to his seat and put his hands on his thighs; his features did not show the slightest emotion. Around him, a low murmur had begun again - the other monks’ faces were shocked. Hardly any of them had noticed what had happened in the course of the morning and now, of course, uncertainty was high. What had happened to the silent friar? Did he have an accident? Was he suffering from a disease that nobody knew about?

While everyone else rose and left the church, Jonah remained in his place, immovable like the figure of St. Benedict standing in a niche near the sanctuary, his eyes fixed on the opposite row of the choir stalls. I was still wondering if I should go to him and take care of him when he slipped forward in a single fluid movement like fainting - the question of whether I should intervene had been dealt with and I went to him without another thought. It was not until I was standing in front of him and wanted to put a hand on his back to support him that I realized that he was not unconscious, but had dropped to his knees to pray. Latin words, spoken so softly that I could only understand fragments. I felt an urge to help him, to console him, though I also felt as if I needed some comforting words; yet I did not dare interrupt his prayers. If that was something that helped him, gave him support at such a moment, then I would be the last one to disturb him. I was about to turn away from him when a quick glance into his eyes made me freeze - they were as empty as a dead man’s. Jonah was clearly in shock. I had to act, even if it meant disturbing his devotion. Carefully, I grabbed his shoulder and quietly called his name. He did not react. He just kept muttering and did not even bother to shake off my hand. Persuasion did not help; he was as if in a trance, completely withdrawn and unresponsive. 

Suddenly someone touched my arm.

Beside me was one of the priests who had previously served in the Mass, a man in his forties with even, dark skin, short black hair, and gold-framed glasses whose simple elegance fitted the rest of his appearance. He made an unobtrusive gesture to follow him to a chapel to the side. I did, casting one last worried glance at Jonah.

"Please excuse me for kidnapping you so easily..." he began. His voice was warm and gentle with a slight Indian accent that made him seem very sympathetic.

"All right, I ... it's about Jonah, is it?"

He nodded sadly.

"Indeed. You can see how he reacts quite recently ... But anyway it was to be assumed that he would not be able to withstand the pressure any more ... "

I looked at the priest questioningly.

"The pressure?"

The man shook his head vaguely and began to move, always making sure I stayed within earshot.

"The way he behaved in the last few days ... well, how could one describe this condition? Introverted, but not in a good way. I admit I've been worried about him since his _accident_ , but ... "

He said nothing else, giving me time to clear my mind about his unusual emphasis on the word 'accident'. Then he looked me straight in the eye.

"Dr. Watson, I do not want to tempt you to violate your secrecy, but ... If there is something I - something we can all do to help him, then I would be very grateful if you would tell me. "

My hesitation was evidently answer enough, because he immediately raised his hands defensively.

"Alright, I realize that I'm putting you in a difficult situation. That was not my intention, please forgive me. "

"No problem."

"What I'm really talking about is ... well ... do you think it advisable to leave him alone with his problems? Until this morning, after all, he still had Brother William, who stood by his side, but now - after these terrible news? "

"Are you asking me if I would recommend him for therapy?"

"No. I'd just like to hear from you if you would approve of Brother Jonah returning to us. I'm not sure if it suits him to be alone so often - especially now, without Brother William. "

I was astonished that the Father mentioned the relationship between Jonah and William for a second time. How much did he know about the two? I decided to inquire afterwards; everything else would have been too obvious, and as long as I didn’t know anything about the relationship between him and Brother Jonah, I could not talk to him as openly as it might be necessary.

"You seem to know him well ..." I mused, giving him a questioning look.

"I am his confessor."

That explained a lot. But given Jonah's piety, could I assume that he'd told this man about his previous relationship with Brother William? If he was really serious about his beliefs, he should have mentioned that part of his past in his confession. However, he would have put William in dire straits if William had not done the same. I realized that I was on very thin ice and so I decided to change the subject.

"Well, then we both have to be careful to live up to our confidences, eh?" I joked, but at the same moment I sensed that the smile did not reach my eyes.

The priest pulled the corners of his mouth a little way up, but his concern was all too clearly written in his face.

"What would you advise from a medical point of view?"

I hesitated, but then decided to give him an honest answer.

"I think it would be best if he could, if only briefly, visit Brother William at the hospital. Just sitting here, unable to do anything..." I shook my head, unsure how to finish the sentence, ignoring what I had learned with confidence from the young novice.

My interlocutor nodded affirmatively.

"Entirely my opinion."

"But the Prior will not let him go to the hospital."

"Well, if the question has already been decided, then we cannot do much more."

"Could you possibly ask him ...?"

The Father shook his head vehemently.

"It's not my place to ask for something Brother Jonah’s been denied before. I'm sorry, Dr. Watson, but that's the rules. "

"And what will happen to him now? I mean - look at him! He's in shock, he ... "

"That's why I wanted to speak to you. Like I said before, I do not think it's good for him to be alone so often - I know that you care about him, but even you can not keep an eye on him all the time. When do you think he will be able to participate in religious life again? "

I swallowed. My utterly selfish plan to persuade him to stay in the hospital room to keep him close to me would not work out - and maybe that was a good thing. The priest was right, I could not sit at Jonah's bedside all day so he would not get bored - and I did not feel lonely myself. In fact, he asked to return to his room before because he felt isolated.

"I guess it does not matter if he goes back to his normal everyday life tomorrow, I just don’t know exactly what is the best course of action for now - he obviously needs to rest but I agree with you that he should not be alone. Is there anyone who could take care of him a bit when he returns to his room? "

"I can visit him every now and then, Father Andrew too, and I'm sure the other novices will take care of him. Is there anything else to consider from the medical point of view? "

"It would be good if he did not attend the Vigil yet, he still needs a lot of rest. He should not be woken up in the middle of the night."

"That goes without saying."

"And how do we proceed now?" I asked carefully. One “we” did not exist between me and the Father, after all, I was only a guest here and did not have the right to interfere in the matter of the convention. My interlocutor, however, seemed quite taken by my concern for the young monk.

"I think we should leave him alone today. This has all been very hard for him ... Brother William was ... is his mentor and Brother Jonah must be deeply shaken by these terrible news - but to harass him in my eyes is totally wrong, I'm afraid he will only retreat further. If we tell him that we are there for him and he can turn to us whenever he wants to talk, then we probably won’t do much wrong. "

It seemed like a good solution to me as well so I nodded my agreement to the dark-haired man. In silent agreement we stepped out of the little side chapel; Jonah was still kneeling in the same place as before when we went back to the main room of the church. We turned, when Jonah's voice rang out, unexpected, loud and clear, as if he had come to a decision after much deliberation.

"Father Christopher," he called without turning his gaze on us, "I want to confess."


	25. Chapter 25

As the friar disappeared into the confessional with Brother Jonah, I left the church and roamed around aimlessly, at a loss as to what to do next. I stopped at a long row of windows and looked out into a bright blue, cloudless sky; had it not been for such terrible events, it would have been a beautiful, clear fall day, one of the kind rarely seen. 

Suddenly it struck me that today was also Jonah's birthday - presumably, despite the latent threat, he would never have expected that his special day would take such a tragic course. I felt pity for him. But more than that, I pitied Brother William who was probably in hospital all alone and fighting for his life - I could only hope that he had not lost his battle. 

My eyes fell on the church clock - it was only a quarter past one. Rarely have I made a decision in less time than now. I ran down the steps, walking the corridors with certainty, as if this was my home, and rushed to the front gate. The brother on duty at the gate looked at me with a frown but did not ask any further questions when I called him a hurried "I have to leave for a while, an emergency". A few minutes later I raced down the street in my old Volvo, steadfastly heading for my destination - St Mary's Hospital in Aldershot. 

When I stopped my car in the gravel parking lot in front of the hospital, I thought for the first time of how I would proceed. Of course, I couldn't just walk in the door, ask about Brother William, and expect to be sent to him so easily - but I did not have any other promising plan. Perhaps the clinic staff would be persuaded by my argument that I had treated him during the emergency and now wanted to check on his condition? I had to try it - there was no other way.

At the reception desk behind the glass front door sat a disinterested woman with dyed red, permed hair, pink-framed glasses and matching fingernails, who only looked up at me as I leaned on the small counter with both hands and cleared my throat.

"I ... want to visit someone. His name is Holmes. "

At least, I assumed he and his brother had the same last name-maybe I was a bit conservative in that regard-but even if his brother was married, the likelihood that he'd adopted his wife's name was rather small. The possibility that he could have adopted the name of his husband, I repressed I skillfully. After all, I could not automatically assume that it was the same in other families as it was in mine.

"First given name?"

Well - what now? If I wanted to make this woman believe that I had a right to see Brother William, then I'd better give a plausible answer now. I tried unconventionally to go with the truth.

"Sherlock. But he belongs to a monastic order, so it could be that he registered under his religious name. William. "

She tapped something in her computer and frowned.

"I can’t find anyone with that name here ... Can you tell me his date of birth?"

_Damn it._ She had caught me completely unprepared.

"Ehm, well ..."

"Oh - I think I got him. Sherlock Holmes. Is apparently in the intensive care unit, that is, you would have to register there first in the nurses room. Fifth floor, left corridor. "

So far it went well for me. Pushing back and moving quickly, I strode to the elevators at the far end of the lobby and headed up to the fifth floor, where a few meters later I found myself in front of a wide metal and frosted glass door. To my left, I spotted a small room separated from the corridor by a sash window. There was no one to see, but at the side of the window I saw a doorbell, which I pressed with trembling hands. Now it was all or nothing.

An inconspicuous young woman in a nurse's uniform stepped into the room and pushed the glass aside; the little plastic tag on the lapels of her uniform dismissed her as Nurse Tessa.

"Um ... excuse me, I ..."

I cleared my throat, thinking about my chances. Could I dare? Well, it was probably the only option I had ...

"I want to visit my brother - Sherlock Holmes. He was admitted this morning with poisoning. "

I almost expected her to demand that I identify myself, but instead she just smiled shyly, took a large-sized book from the shelf behind her and presented it to me.

"You have to register in the visitors log."

Quickly I scanned the page that indicated the date in the left column and the names of the visitors in the right column. If this Mycroft Holmes had already been here, it would be an advantage if my signature would look as similar to his own. However, today only four visitors were registered and none of them bore the name Holmes. I tried to write as neatly as possible, because only an elegant font seemed to fit the picture of the rich brother in my mind . I would have to work on overcoming my prejudices later.

As I pushed the book over to her, she smiled gratefully and pointed to the door I had just stood in front of.

"Room 11, I'll open the door for you."

A humming sound rang out and I hurried to open the heavy door; I nodded gratefully to her once more as she blushed.

I tried desperately to slow down my quick steps - I had all the time in the world, he was fine, he would wake up again ... there was no reason to hurry. Everything would turn out well. I looked at the numbers on small square stainless steel signs in the upper right corner of each door - 5.09, 5.10 ... and finally 5.11. As with all the other rooms in this corridor, there was a glass panel next to it, through which one could look into the room from outside; however, the view was largely blocked by a half-drawn louvered blind, behind which was visible only a hospital bed surrounded by a frightening number of devices. I swallowed; such a sight should be familiar to me, conditioned by my profession, but now I just wanted to run away. I took a deep breath. I had come this far, now I could not back down - and so I put my hand on the latch and opened the door that separated me from Brother William.

The sight of him made me freeze in my tracks. Distributed around his bed, I did not see just the usual monitoring equipment showing his vital signs; no, far from it - I was fully aware of how serious his condition was when I saw the respirator, the stomach tube and the dialysis machine. I stood in the door for a few minutes staring at the dark-haired man who suddenly seemed so small and fragile among all these machines. I approached his bed, pushed past the heart monitor and stopped beside his upper body. So far, I'd never seen him in any clothing other than his habit, and I had to admit that seeing him wearing only a hospital gown was extremely disconcerting, his bare arms pierced with cannulas.

The urge to touch him had never been so strong, but even though nothing of his appearance now reminded me of him being a friar, I had scruples. As much as I wanted it deep inside, it still cost me some effort to put my hand on his and gently stroke it, careful not to touch either the cannula nor the heart monitor. Studies had clearly demonstrated the importance of providing coma patients with sensory stimuli by addressing them, touching them, playing their favorite music, or reading to them from a book they liked - in short, creating a familiar atmosphere to speed recovery and give the patient's mind the necessary impetus to get back to life.

"Sherlock ..." I whispered, hoping that name would trigger a reaction, "It's me, John. Do you remember me?"

I felt incredibly stupid asking question, especially since I did not expect an answer. Nevertheless, I forced myself to continue.

"Sherlock, I ... I don’t know how much you sense right now about what's happening around you, but maybe you've noticed that you're in hospital ... I'm not saying this to scare you but your brothers and I are very worried about you ... of course I understand that your body has to recover now, but ... "

I swallowed hard. The words were on my tongue, but I could not bring myself to utter them, was almost a little afraid to seal his fate when I expressed my greatest concern. My grip on his hand tightened so much that I dug my fingernails into his skin. When I realized what I was doing, I let it go as though I had burned myself but he did not respond to the pain or the interrupted touch. Apart from the regular beeping of the controls, there was no indication that he was alive at all.

"Sherlock," I murmured, reaching for his hand again, interlacing my fingers with his and looking into his pale face, his closed eyes, and tangled hair, "You must not die. Please wake up!"

I glanced at the heart monitor, but the readings showed no change. He probably did not notice me at all - and that was what scared me the most. During my professional career I had often found that the answer to the anxious question of whether the life of a coma patient continued or not was within a few days or weeks: either the patient woke up again - or the brain died. Again I let my eyes slip over the body of the young monk. Which group would he belong to?

For a moment, I simply stood by his side and held his hand, occasionally glancing at the monitor to see if his pulse or heart rate changed-but nothing happened. The longer I stood beside his bed, the more desperate I became. Right now, he was closer to death than to life, and even though I barely knew him, the thought that he could die any moment was unbearable. As meaningless and unrequited as my feelings were to him, none of that changed the fact that I, in the face of his condition, suffered untold torments. Never before had I felt that way for another human being, it seemed like fate to me, meeting a man in a convent to whom I felt so deeply attached from the first moment, as we were destined for each other. And now fate had just decided to tear us apart. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh. But for me, only one thing was certain - his loss would break my heart.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my sobs, and with the other I held him tight. I knew I held a man who lacked any consciousness and who neither felt my touch nor heard my words. I was too scared to pull up his closed eyelids to check his pupil reaction because I was sure that I would not see any sign of life there either. Silent tears dripped from my face to his blanket and I didn’t bother to wipe them off.

"If you're still in there somewhere," I whispered, gently stroking his ashen face, "If you can hear me, then please, Sherlock - don’t give up. Please wake up ... I ... I have something to tell you and I don’t even know if you can hear me ... "

I sighed. I had always imagined speaking these words by candlelight, over a glass of fine wine - not at the bedside of a man who couldn’t respond. Still, as long as there was a hint of a chance I could get through to him, I would try. Still stroking his cheek, I leaned down until my lips almost touched his nose.

"I fell in love with you," I whispered, placing a gossamer-soft kiss on his forehead. 

Had there ever been a man whose words sounded so sad? My hands trembled and my heart beat wildly in my chest. His, on the other hand, did not devote a single extra beat to my confession.


	26. Chapter 26

I had spent almost an hour at his bed, touching him softly and murmuring to him but at some point I could not endure seeing him lying so helpless, even though I was deeply ashamed of the thought. Only when I stepped out into the empty corridor this feeling changed to rage - fury about being his only visitor. Where was his family? Where was the ominous brother with whom Prior Lambert seemed to be in contact fairly often? Slowly, I began to distrust the Prior - had he not passed on the information that Brother William had been taken to the hospital?

As I passed through the lobby, I spotted Tessa speaking with a middle-aged man with heavily groomed, reddish hair, waving an umbrella next to him, looking through the entries in the visitor list. She noticed me and nodded unobtrusively in my direction whereupon the man, dressed in an elegant black three-piece suit, turned to me and examined me from top to bottom. He approached me and stood so close that I felt uncomfortable at the lack of distance.

" _You_ are Mycroft Holmes?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

So much for that. I had been so confident that everything would turn out fine but now it was clear I’d have to pay for my carelessness in appropriating the name. I cleared my throat and tried to suppress the slight tremor in my voice, straightened up, and looked challengingly at him.

"Who wants to know?"

"Someone who by an unlikely coincidence bears exactly the same name as you. Come on, Doctor, let's go for a little walk. "

"Go where...?"

He looked at me and rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure my brother has already explained the details of my profession to you so let's get straight to the point."

"The point?"

"Who are you? And what did you want in my brother's room? "

"I am a friend."

"My brother doesn’t have friends."

"I guess you're wrong."

"Oh, am I?"

Again the raised eyebrow. This suit-wearing snob quickly got on my nerves.

"Yes. And if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to end our conversation now. I still have work to do. "

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be sorely missed at the monastery."

"How do you know that?"

He gave a derogatory snort and twisted the corners of his mouth, as if I had told a particularly bad joke.

"Where else would you have made the acquaintance of my brother when he has been hiding behind monastery walls for almost a year?"

If I had a brother like you, I would hide as well, it went through my head, but I kept my mouth shut.

"You have not answered my question yet. So what did you want in my brother's room? "

"I was worried about him and wanted to see if he was okay."

"Don’t you think that's a little overbearing? You hardly know him."

"Well," I said with a spiteful undertone and looked at him defiantly in spite of his vast height, "His family obviously was not in much of a hurry to look after him."

"You have seen yourself that nobody can help him at the moment."

"Just because he's in a coma doesn’t mean he can’t feel anything. We can’t know what is going on in his head right now and I find it absolutely inhuman to leave him alone right now. "

"It's not up to you to judge. I can only advise you to stay away from him in the future.”

"No."

I was quite shocked by the sound of my voice and the defiance that spoke clearly out of it.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I do _not_ intend to leave him alone right now. He needs me. "

The older man laughed out loud.

"He _needs_ you? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Sherlock does not need anyone, the only person important to him is himself. "

"You may be his brother but you don’t know anything about him."

I spat out the words, full of loathing for this dreadful man whose presence I could not endure one second longer. I didn’t pay any further attention to him and strode to the exit - but not without bumping into him while passing. I was well aware of how childish my behavior was but he just did not deserve better. I almost expected him to follow me but I heard no footsteps behind me.

During the entire trip back to the monastery, I thought about my strange encounter with Mycroft Holmes. This man was not only unpleasant to me - he really scared me. His advice to keep away from his brother clearly sounded like a threat and I did not doubt for a moment that he would find ways to deny me any contact in the future.

However, I had no time to think about this any longer because as soon as I parked my car in the monastery’s visitor parking lot, I saw a face at the gate I knew all too well. With weak knees I got out, walked over and stopped in front of the gray-haired man who had his hands folded over his chest and looked at me over the rim of his glasses.

"We have already missed you, Dr. Watson."

I cleared my throat insecurely. Would I have to pack my things now?

"Please forgive me, Prior, I should have asked permission."

"Would you please accompany me to my office for a moment?"

I followed, though it was pretty much the last thing I wanted to do right now. Once again I found myself on the visitors' side of the desk, waiting for the Prior to address me again.

"I will get straight to the point, Dr. Watson - did you take Brother Jonah to the hospital to see Brother William?"

I expected reprimand - not a question. Jonah? What about Jonah? Was he not in the monastery? Instead of giving the man in front of me a reasonable answer, I literally stuttered.

"But ... he should be here ... He's not in the hospital, I ..."

Helpless, I shrugged and looked at Prior Lambert.

"Where _is_ Brother Jonah?"

The older man looked as perplexed as I did.

"In any case, he is not here. No one has seen him since early afternoon. He seems to have been swallowed up by the earth. And since you were gone as well, it was likely to suspect that the two of you were making your way to Brother William. "

"I was with Brother William but I was there alone. And I did not meet anyone at the hospital ... well, apart from his brother. "

"Doctor Watson, can you tell me when you last saw Brother Jonah? And where?"

"Today at noon, in the church. He prayed and then asked Father Christopher to hear his confession. Maybe he could help you ... "

The Prior shook his head vigorously.

"I hope you are aware of the importance of the confidentiality of the confessional, right?"

"But I didn’t mean that, I just thought that maybe Jonah told the Father where he wanted to go ..."

"Had he actually wanted to leave the monastery, then it would have been his duty to deregister before me. Brother Jonah knows that and it is not likely for him to break the rules. "

"That's what you said about Brother William."

I uttered the words without thinking that I could get Brother William into trouble. On the other hand, he could hardly have any more troubles than the ones he was currently in.

"May I ask what you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Just keeping in mind that things are not always what they seem at first sight. "

Prior Lambert gave me a cold, almost condescending smile.

"Believe me, doctor, I know that."

Neither he nor I then spoke a word so I got up and just wanted to say goodbye when the gray-haired man spoke to me again, his voice much softer this time than before.

"How is Brother William?"

"His condition is unchanged ... bad. I did not speak to a doctor, but ... the way it seems to be now ... "

I swallowed, unable to finish my sentence.

"Will he make it?"

"I don’t know," I whispered, trying to keep my composure, at least now, "I don’t know ..."

*

After Brother Jonah did not appear for vespers or dinner, I seriously began to worry about him. Presumably, it would not hurt anyone if I unobtrusively inquired of Father Christopher for the whereabouts of the novice, since he himself had previously contacted me, because he was worried about the young man. I looked at the clock; it was just before seven so I would probably find the Father in the lounge. Carefully, I opened the door, pushed as inconspicuously as possible into the room, which was populated by the majority of the friars, and looked around. By now most of the faces were familiar to me, even though I could not immediately assign the right name to everyone. There was Brother Elijah, the cook, who was in conversation with one of the novices, who had helped him more often in the kitchen and probably also had some interest in this regard. Father Andrew stood by the fireplace with two other priests, saying something that made his interlocutors smile ... and there was Father Christopher. He sat in one of the armchairs and studied the daily newspaper. Just when I looked over at him, he looked up so that our eyes met. As soon as I started to walk towards him, he put aside his paper and stood up. 

"There you are", he greeted me and held out his hand, "I was worried because ..."

I cleared my throat and interrupted him in the middle of his little speech.

"Believe me, I'm worried too ..."

Looking at me with wide eyes, he sat down again and gestured to the seat to his right.

"What happened?"

"I was told Brother Jonah was gone."

The man, who otherwise seemed so calm and relaxed, frowned.

"So he did not go with you?"

"No, I set off while you heard his confession. And that's why I thought you might be able to tell me ... "

His reaction was the same as that of the Prior's - he shook his head.

"I can not talk about what he entrusted to me in the context of the sacrament of penance. If I didn’t know you were present when he asked me, I should not even tell you that the conversation actually took place. "

"I do not want to know what Brother Jonah confessed, I just want to know where he went after that."

"He went nowhere, he returned to his place in the choir and prayed. Just like before. That's why I thought you came back and took him to the hospital. "

"Why would I have done that, even though both you and Brother Jonah made it clear to me that it wasn’t possible?"

"I'm sorry," the priest replied, "I did not mean to blame you for inciting him to break the rules ..."

"Could he have gone there by himself?"

"I don’t know how he should have done that - it's almost a ten-kilometer walk to the next town and he doesn’t have the money to buy a bus ticket."

"Could he have hitchhiked?"

Despite the tense situation, Father Christopher snorted with amusement.

"A hitchhiking monk?"

"Looks at least reassuring, right?"

The priest shook his head as if he did not want to accept the possibility.

"He just does not seem to be the type for something like that. Such a big effort, only ... "

"... to see his seriously ill friend one last time?"

"Wouldn’t he have been able to accompany you as well then?"

"Would you have let him go if he just walked out the gate?"

The conversation became more and more of a battle between me and the young clergyman, but I was sure that I could emerge victorious.

"This is not a jail, Doctor Watson," my counterpart explained, almost stunned at my insinuation.

"Outwardly not, no. And yet, without the permission of the Prior, nobody can just leave the monastery without fear of consequences. "

The priest leaned back, his arms crossed.

"You were in the army, weren’t you?"

"That's right."

"Would you have just left there?"

I cleared my throat uncomfortably, but did not answer because I already knew which way this conversation was going.

"Suppose one of your comrades - a good friend - was badly wounded in a fight. Could you have easily left your post and escorted him to the hospital until he recovered? "

"These are two completely different things," I replied hoarsely.

"No, I do not think so. Any community, be it the army or a convent, thrives on its members being able to rely on each other. That everyone knows his place and the task assigned to him and fulfills his duty to the best of his knowledge and belief. And that presupposes both the existence of hierarchical structures and the readiness to fit into them. I never said that would always be easy, but it is necessary, for the benefit of all. "

"To what extent should the welfare of the community be in danger if a novice leaves the monastery for a day? Especially if it may be the last time he can see the man who is one of the most important people to him? "

"Don’t you think that would be unfair to the other brothers? Brother Jonah is not the only one here who likes Brother William and may wish to bid him farewell - even though, of course, we all hope and pray that the Lord will not call him just yet. Doctor, what’s wrong with you ...? "

I looked up at him and realized only by my blurred vision that my eyes had filled with tears. I shook my head indecisively and was about to respond when I was cut off by the loud opening of the door.

"Our lost son has returned home," said the elder monk, who had served at the gate at noon - resting on his shoulder, Brother Jonah stepped into the room, and even though he was limping and his habit was torn at the side, he seemed to be well except for a few minor scratches on his face. Immediately, his brothers scrambled around him, escorted him to a place by the fireplace and pressed a cup of tea into his freezing hands.

"Jonah, for God's sake, are you alright?"

"Where have you been, we were so worried about you ..."

"Where did you get those injuries?"

"We thought something bad had happened to you ..."

At first, the blond just sat there and sipped his tea, but when the demands finally stopped, he started to speak.

"I am sorry that I have caused you grief. It was stupid and I promise you that something like that will not happen again." He put down the cup, folded his hands in his lap and lowered his head humbly. "Please forgive me."

The other monks murmured in agreement while still busy caring for him; one of them put a blanket over Jonah's shoulders, another pulled his dirt-caked shoes off his feet and put a comfortable stool under his legs. The novice himself was clearly uncomfortable with all the attention and he endured rather than enjoyed it; all the more one could see his relief when the bell called the brothers to evening prayers. My attempt to prevent Jonah from hauling himself into the church despite his injury, rather than having me treat his wound, was nipped in the bud by him.

"Later," he waved and walked past me, whispering to me that he was coming to me on his own. "Until then, watch and pray with me, John."


	27. Chapter 27

Again, I sat in my room expecting the nightly visit of a man who should have been any other place but here at this time of night. The bell had just struck nine o'clock when a soft knock sounded at the door and it immediately opened. A tuft of blond hair was visible in the crack of the door.

"Jonah!" I exclaimed in a subdued voice as I got up. 

He put a finger to his lips and motioned for me to follow him. When I saw the candle in his hand, I was painfully reminded of Brother William, but I decided to put the thoughts of him aside as much as possible and see where the novice was leading me and what he wanted to tell me.

"Come on," he whispered and reached for my hand as we stood side by side in the dark corridor. He was still limping but that did not stop him from rushing through the corridors with me and up several flights of stairs. He led me up under the roof, where he opened a nondescript wooden door at the end of a hallway. When he turned on the light, I was beyond amazed. In front of me was a large, bright room with floor-to-ceiling windows, light parquet flooring, and natural rafters supporting the wood-clad eaves. On the sides of the room were woolen blankets and cushions in bright shades of red and orange, all aimed at a low table at the front of the room, on which was a flowered icon of Our Lady with the Child Jesus, in front of it two simple white candles, unlist of course. From the ceiling hung a simple, modern-looking chandelier with a dozen milky bulbs that bathed the room in a pleasant light. Amazed, I looked around.

"Where are we?"

"This is our meditation room. Normally, it’s used for seminars attended by our guests or for retreats in small groups. Of course, it also serves for private prayer but most of us prefer to pray quietly in our cell or in front of the Blessed Sacrament. Since you are our only guest at the moment and the next retreat is scheduled for Advent, hardly anyone uses it at the moment, especially since the older brothers are not particularly eager to climb to the top floor. "

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I have to talk to you. Unobserved."

He motioned for me to sit on one of the blankets and sat down directly opposite me, our knees almost touching.

Curious, I studied him as he tried to make himself comfortable without straining his injured leg, smoothing the fabric of his habit so as not to further enlarge the rip it received when he left the monastery and straightening his glasses. He took a deep breath, then looked me straight in the eye.

"John, you ... offered me your help a few days ago ... and now I would like to take it."

I did not hesitate for a second.

"What can I do for you?"

"I ... told you that it was William ..." He looked out of the big window as if in a dream and looked at the moon, which hung over the treetops and bathed everything in a silvery light, before he corrected himself with a gentle voice. "... that Sherlock was the one who helped the police bust the drug trafficking ring and bring those involved to justice. You asked me why he came to this monastery, though he knew we would meet here. "

I nodded to encourage him to continue speaking.

"I lied to you," he confessed, "and I think I only made things worse. Sherlock ... came here for my sake. To protect me. "

His words didn’t surprise me. To be honest, I almost knew their reunion wasn’t a coincidence. However, I wanted to know more - if I should help him, then I had to know what had happened. The whole truth.

"Who did he want to protect you from? You said the parties were all arrested and sentenced ... "

"Yeah, that's what we all thought ... but then Sherlock got a message. I still don’t know what it was and under what circumstances it reached him, but shortly thereafter Sherlock appeared in the clinic with his brother and two strange guys and they said it was necessary to get me out of the country immediately."

"'Two strange guys'?"

My curiosity was piqued, not least because Mycroft Holmes himself had seemed like a very 'weird guy' when I had the pleasure of meeting him.

Jonah shook his head defensively.

"The two seemed like secret agents or something ... like out of a bad movie. I never learned who they were and I'm honestly not keen to know. "

"Where did they take you?"

"Nowhere. I refused to leave the hospital, let alone the country. My decision was already made - I wanted to serve God. Here, in this country and in this monastery. Anything else was out of the question for me. "

I looked at the young novice. "I can imagine your reaction didn’t necessarily please the gentlemen ..."

"Sherlock was furious. I’ve never experienced him like this before. He shouted at me and tried to drag me out of bed and forcibly into his brother's car, but he didn’t succeed. "

I looked questioningly at the blond, who now allowed himself a small smile, which did not seem exactly happy.

"I may not be strong, but I can defend myself when necessary. If you want to survive on the streets, you learn that damn fast. "

"And he did give in?"

A slight flush came on Jonah's cheeks as he turned away, ashamed. "He didn’t have another choice after I broke his nose ..."

In disbelief, I stared at the young man, who, however, was very eager to change the subject.

"Anyway, that's what made him leave me alone. He left without saying goodbye to me and I hadn’t heard from him in months. Just before I left, I contacted Mycroft because I wanted to say goodbye to Sherlock and apologize to him, but he just told me that his brother was unavailable and I should not continue to contact him. And that's what I stuck to. "

"But then Sherlock showed up here. As 'Brother William'. "

"It all sounds as if it were only a charade to him - as if he were a little boy playing the pirate."

"Can you be sure that’s not it? You said yourself that you don’t know where he's gone since you saw each other in hospital and that you didn’t know why he suddenly chose to live as a monk. Couldn’t it be just that he only plays a role so as not to attract attention while keeping an eye on you? "

Jonah shook his head defensively.

"No. You don’t know him. He can be a very good actor when he wants to, but no one could lead a life like ours with such sincerity if he did not wholeheartedly embrace it. "

No matter how hard he tried, he didn’t manage to completely dispel my doubts; there were just too many tiny details that didn’t fit together - his long absence, after he had been so eager to rescue Jonah, his sudden appearance here in the monastery, and especially the detail that was so obvious, that it was not just me who would have noticed.

"Even if he chose this path right after your quarrel, he couldn't yet be a fully ordained monk. As you do, I know that just the novitiate lasts at least a year, and that he would have had to go through the postulate to be admitted as a novice. Don’t look so shocked, Father Andrew was kind enough to explain to me right at the beginning of my stay, how the 'career' of a monk works ... How long have you been novice - half a year? "

He could not look me in the eye. Instead, he changed his sitting position, stretched out his legs and pushed the hem of his habit upwards. A broad strip of adhesive plaster appeared to cover the injury on his leg - though I had repeatedly offered to treat his wound, he had repeatedly put me off to 'later', almost as if he wanted to delay it as long as possible. Now, however, he began plucking at one corner of the bandage, but was unable to grasp it with his strikingly short fingernails.

_He started chewing his nails_ \- it shot through my head, but before I could think about it, a loud hiss, followed by a moan, pulled my gaze to his leg. He’d demolished the bandage and thus revealed the still slightly bleeding wound.

"What on earth are you doing ?!"

The blond just shrugged and focused his attention on the injury.

"Jonah!"

"The bandage pulled on the hair," he mumbled, gently fingering the edges of the wound, as if he had completely forgotten about my presence.

"You’re avoiding my questions," I said, holding his wrists until he stopped. Carefully, I took his hands in mine, gently stroking the slender fingers and soft skin of the back of his hand as I tried to bring the conversation back to the previous topic.

"I just want to understand it," I whispered placidly and waited until he finally looked at me and began to speak with a deep sigh.

"You're right, John. At first it was all staged. Several weeks after Sherlock left, Mycroft contacted me and introduced me to his plans. In France, where no one knew him, Sherlock would acquire the theological basics and contact me as soon as everything necessary was set in motion. From a legal point of view, you are right with your suspicions - Sherlock has never taken the vows of ordination. That he spent the last few months before he came here in a convent in Brittany, however, is true. "

He hesitated a moment and seemed to be searching for the right words.

"I wish for him nothing more than a happy, harmonious relationship with a person who makes him happy, but he refuses to abandon his plan. Even if it means that he has to renounce the love of a man to whom he feels drawn from the depths of his heart. "

"You could still go away together," I murmured, deeply moved by his honest words.

Jonah looked at me without understanding.

"I’m not talking about me, John - I’m talking about you."

I drew in a sharp breath and shook my head. "You are wrong, Jonah. There was never anything between us and there will never be. "

_Because to Sherlock, it had always been more important than anything else to keep up his masquerade, even when he realized that this wouldn’t help him protecting his friend._

"I've seen him looking at you - he looked at you over and over, he could hardly take his eyes off you ..."

"If he actually had any feelings for me, then he would have behaved differently. You yourself have said that he is not a real monk, so he is not bound by vows - and even if that were the case, he has made it clear more than once made it clear what he thinks of vows of any kind. "

"If you mean the vow of silence, it was for his own protection."

"In what way?"

"If he doesn’t speak, no one can ask him questions about his past and why he’s here now."

"And why did he break it for me then? A man he doesn’t know at all? "

"Right, John. That's what I'm trying to tell you - you're much more to him than a stranger who spends a few weeks here to recover from his daily routine. "

"No," I replied, both convinced and embittered, "All this ... was as false as the story of the deeply religious monk. He probably just wanted to talk to me to find out if I was a threat to you. "

"It wasn’t a lie. He just wanted to be close to you. "

I snorted. Actually, I wasn’t willing to talk about a man who was still struggling with death and over whose bed I had just shed bitter tears, but the realization that he had been fooling me from the beginning hurt.

"He could have been close to me when he visited me in my room in the middle of the night. He knew that I felt something for him, but instead, he handed me some monk’s pepper tree to make me think clearly again. If everything was as you say, it would have been the ideal opportunity for him - we were alone and he knew only too well how much I wanted him ... And I thought he'd just rejected me for his chastity vow ...silly me!"

I could tell that Jonah was not feeling well at the moment.

"It's not stupid, John. As I said before, no one could pretend to be so well off for such a long time if he had not found favor with such a way of life in any way. He has come to terms with life here because, in a way, it suits his nature. Maybe apart from the obedience vow. "

"It's hard to believe that."

"Here he can devote himself to his studies in peace, without anyone bothering him, can perform his experiments ..."

"Experiments?"

"He studied chemistry and pursues it with a passion - even though his main focus is currently on herbal medicine. His vow of silence protects him from unnecessary small talk, which suits him well. People respect him, but don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to worry about anything, because he is satisfied with his basic needs - everything else is superfluous luxury, which he abhors anyway. His brother has always been a daunting example of how too much money can change a person. And as far as sexuality is concerned ... "

Jonah cleared his throat before continuing. Of course, that was a touchy subject, especially if you were the ex-partner of the person in question, so I didn’t expect the novice to continue. I was all the more surprised when he did, though hesitantly.

"I already told you that it was never important to him during our relationship, that we had sex with each other. I believe that what he longed for most of the time was closeness. Security. Someone to catch him, if he should fall. I would even go so far as to say that he saw it as a necessary evil to have sex with someone if it helped him to get what he really wanted - someone who not only spent the night with him, but was still there the next morning, holding him. Who made him tea and made him believe for those few, precious moments that everything could turn out well ... "

"And you were the one?"

The blond shrugged.

"At first it wasn’t easy for me, but ..."

A brief smile crossed his face as he recalled the memory.

"Someone like Sherlock is well worth renouncing the pleasures of intercourse - especially because he can show you in so many other ways that you are quite desirable. Maybe you develop this ability automatically, if you are asexual but do not want to forgo a relationship ... "

A soft snort had slipped out before I could restrain myself. The novice looked questioningly at me.

"Problem?"

"You think he's asexual?"

"I don’t only believe that, but I am firmly convinced. And I should know it best, right? The monastic life is the best thing that could happen to him in this regard, because it relieves him of a burden he was never willing to bear. "

"He let me lick honey from his finger - if that's not a gesture with clear sexual intent, then I don’t know what is."

Jonah stared at me with open mouth. "He - what ?!"

"Out in the shed with his bees. I helped him with the honey harvest and he let me taste the finished honey. From his index finger. And believe me - the look he gave me was anything but chaste. "

For a moment, Jonah was silent; it seemed difficult for him to digest what I had just said. When he had succeeded, he looked up at me again.

"Then maybe he really just wanted to test you. I'm sorry if I gave you false hopes ... "

I shook my head defensively, but I could not hide how much the novice's conclusion hurt. For a tiny moment, I had hoped that Sherlock would at least reciprocate my feelings, even if he could not formally act on them. Well, though ...

"Maybe we should let the subject go," I suggested, not having to think about the consequences of what I had just learned. "You said you needed my help - so how can I help you?"

He nodded in agreement and then came to the point immediately.

"Sherlock was trying to find out who sent me the threatening letter. After listening to our conversation in the church, you already know that the letter contained orange pips that Sherlock identified as typical for a Northern Irish drug trafficking ring. Surely you’re aware that you can’t just come and go here as you please, which is why Sherlock was suspicious. "

"He suspected that it must be one of your fellow brothers."

"Correct. Since nobody knew until a year ago that I would take refuge here, there are only two possibilities: Either one of the older brothers was bribed or even blackmailed - which I personally don’t believe - or ... "

"... it's one of the novices."

"Only two of them joined the Order after me. And only one of them has a lilt that doesn’t seem to suit the south of England ... "

"Brother Francis," I mumbled in sudden realization.

But could that really be? Apart from the fact that they attended novice lessons together and sat side by side in the choir and at meals, they seemed to have little contact. After all, what I had learned from Brother Francis, he aspired to study theology and then be ordained a priest, which is why he already spent a lot of time in the library and with those monks who also chose this career.

"Are you sure?" I asked, fixing Jonah with a questioning look.

"Not with certainty. And that's exactly why I need your help. I’m sure that Sherlock has already deduced this and since he is very thorough about the preservation of evidence, I suspect that there must be something in his cell that points to the culprit. "

"I don’t know how I can help you - I do not have access to the cells."

"Officially not, no."

"I still don't understand what you're getting at ..."

"That's quite simple: If I suddenly disappear, that will be noticeable. But if you skip the morning praise after a hard day ... well ... "

He smiled subtly but did not elaborate his plan - which was unnecessary anyway, because I had understood what he wanted me to do and agreed. One question remained, however - and it seemed absurd not to be open, now that we had talked about things that had long since crossed the border of privacy.

"Jonah, where have you been this afternoon?"

"I've contacted one of Mycroft’s men and told him everything I know about what's happening here, so he can take the necessary steps to ensure Sherlock's safety. Although he probably already did that anyway ... "

"His men? What does this guy do professionally? Is he working for the British government or something like that? "

"He _is_ the British government. And he is not to be trifled with, so be on guard if you should meet him. "

"Thanks, I already had the pleasure."

"Then you surely know what I mean."

I nodded in agreement, loosening my legs from the uncomfortable sitting position and stretching, while Jonah got up a little clumsily as well. He also answered the question I probably would have asked him next:

"You will surely understand that I could not just go through the main gate to meet him ..."

"Rather...?"

"I climbed over the garden wall - which I unfortunately was not very good at. And why they have to plant rose bushes on an outer wall, which nobody ever sees, will forever remain a mystery to me ... "

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I could not resist a small smile.

"Then you should let me bandage the wound properly. Okay?" I asked, pointing to his injured leg. This time he raised no objections.


	28. Chapter 28

After all these confessions it was hard for me to go to sleep. I tossed restlessly, nodded off briefly, then woke up, looked at my watch and tossed and turned again. When the bells rang the next morning, I felt completely knocked out. I yawned, burying my nose in the pillow and just wanted to get a few more minutes of sleep, but it didn’t help - duty called, even if my job was different than usual. 

I waited for the bell to strike one last time; I was sure the brothers were all in the church by now. I sneaked into the hallway that housed Sherlock's cell. _Brother William’s cell_ , I corrected myself. Even though Jonah and I had started calling him by his real name, I knew I couldn’t even think of him by that name if I did not want to expose his disguise and put him in even greater danger. Nevertheless, his baptismal name was like a mantra for me, encouraging me. Like a vow of love, his name passed my lips as I entered the room, closed the curtains and switched on the bedside lamp; it poured its warm light over the white linen sheets and the cushion with the Union Jack that that still lay beside his pillow. _Sherlock_. As soon as I’d entered the room for the first time, I’d had the feeling that a very special person lived here - what Jonah had told me about him just confirmed that guess. As before, my eyes fell on the skull, watching the room from its shelf and making fun of me with its fixed grin. I could not understand how anyone would put something like that on a shelf. Memento mori - remember that you have to die - was a phrase that was associated with medieval monasticism, but why someone who’s monastic life wasn’t more than a role he played kept a -undoubtedly authentic - human skull in his room in such a prominent place, I could not fathom.

I looked around the room. I didn’t know exactly what I searched for but there were not many places in the cell to hide things. I decided to systematically search for something that looked out of place. _Where would I have hidden things, or notes, that were not meant for anyone else’s eyes?_ Following an inspiration, I glanced under the bed but found only an almost empty pack of nicotine patches in exactly the same spot where there was a box of adult magazines in my London apartment. With a slight smile, I shook my head. Every human being had some kind of vice, including the man who had always seemed to me as perfectly supernatural. I put the package back to where I found it and continued my search.

I briefly glanced into the bedside drawer; on the one hand, I had the feeling of inappropriately intruding on his privacy and, on the other hand, apart from the magnifying glass he’d used when he examined the letter, it contained nothing but a nail file and some handwritten sheet music. I would have loved to take a closer look at the latter, because the thought that he not only played the violin brilliantly, but also composed music, made my heart beat faster. Next, I devoted myself to the closet. It was meticulously sorted: two white undergarments hung there along a black outer garment pleasantly smelling of detergent, along with a long black woolen coat which looked strangely bold with a buttonhole outlined in red thread; the two compartments underneath the closet harbored some long sleeve shirts and socks, almost exclusively black, and - as I noticed blushing - extremely snug-cut underwear. Like a child caught doing something forbidden, I quickly slammed the door close and tried to dispel the thoughts that flashed through my head. I had a job to do and couldn’t allow myself to be distracted now.

I continued my search at the desk where I had seen Brother William sit so often in the last few days and pulled open one drawer after the other. I riffled through the loose papers on the desktop... nothing. The documents he kept there were devoted exclusively to religious topics or beekeeping. The letter Jonah had received was not there. Frustrated, I turned to the last piece of furniture that I had not yet examined - the bookshelf. Unfortunately, I found nothing there to give me a clue - only the skull still stared at me from empty eye sockets and seemed to mock me.

"You're not much help to me either," I grumbled in his direction, pulling a few random books off the shelf, flipping through them, then putting them back. _Nothing_. I looked around the room, uncertain what to do next. _Did I miss anything?_ Out of sheer desperation, I lifted the mattress but there was nothing there besides the slatted frame. Behind the mirror and under the bases of the two reading lamps, the result was equally sobering. At a loss, I went through the books scattered around his desk again, but again I did not find much, except for a small handwritten note that had been used as a bookmark in a book about the different bee species, in one place dealing with the wood bee, an insect species: "We sometimes ask so much for being angels that we forget to be good people."

A truly beautiful quote, but unfortunately not what I was looking for.

But I did not give up that fast. The clock on the wall told me that I had ten minutes left before the brothers returned from breakfast - enough time to at least glance briefly into Brother Francis' cell. I scurried across the hall and slipped into the room on the other side of the corridor. Again, as before in Brother William’s room, I closed the curtains before turning on the lights. The furniture was the same as the other cells that I had seen so far, only the furniture here was mirrored. Contrary to what I was used to from Jonah’s and William’s rooms, it seemed almost chaotic here; the bed was not made, the desk was littered with theological textbooks, and there were sticky notes all around, but none confirmed Jonah's suspicions. I opened all the drawers here as well, even though it was clear that I would hardly bump into a brown glass bottle with a sign showing a skull and crossbones. On the other hand, Brother Francis had always seemed so reliable to me that, assuming he was indeed the culprit, he would have been firmly convinced that he would never be discovered. And people who were too sure of themselves became careless. However, having found nothing suspicious here, there were only two possible conclusions: Either he was one of the few people who could commit a crime without being caught - or he was truly innocent.

The bells rang again so I hastily extinguished the light, pushed the curtains open, and left the corridor as quickly as possible, so no one would catch me. Even though the situation seemed hopeless, I was not ready to give up. There was another place I could continue my search - but that would have to wait until after vespers, when the brothers retired for dinner and I could be sure no one was around.

*

Remorse crept over me as I walked through the garden at dusk, past the apple trees, which were now almost completely harvested, and the flowers, whose blooms slowly faded to be replaced by colorful autumn leaves. The cool evening air penetrated my bones, making me shiver but when I finally reached my destination, I felt warm immediately. The outer wall and the trees with their low-hanging branches offered the hives a little protection from the weather and in spite of the advanced season one or two bees were still visible in the air. The same meditative calm that had seized me while working among the hives with William captured me again now as I pulled the protective gear out of the shed. I put it on and started to provide the bees with nutrient solution. I would take care of his tiny animals until William could do it himself again. It seemed like a deal with a higher power: If I could make sure none of his bees died, then William would stay alive too. It was a completely absurd thought but at the moment it was the only thing that kept me from going crazy with fear.

Just as I was about to take off my long, padded gloves, I saw one of the tiny little animals crawling up my arm. I was about to shake her off, but the more I looked at her, the more she cast a spell over me. Bees were amazing creatures and I began to understand why they were so intriguing to William. What would I give to be able to do this together with him again ...

_“Some day…”_ I whispered into the wind and looked wistfully at the little insect. _When he finally wakes up_... It seemed to me that this tiny creature knew exactly what was going on inside me; it sat very quietly on my arm and seemed to look questioningly at me. Did bees get used to the presence of the beekeeper? Did they even develop a relationship with him? And if that was the case - were they missing him? I only realized that I had started to cry again when one of my tears dripped onto the fabric of the glove. The bee flew away and left me alone in the garden, where I silently finished my work before crossing to the small extension next to the kitchen and carefully closing the door behind me. I could not allow myself to be distracted now, if I wanted to fulfill my task.

Leisurely, I walked through the small room, inhaling the scent of the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and looked around.The shelves on the wall held all sorts of glasses with herbal mixtures and tinctures, all carefully labeled in the swinging but delicate handwriting which I recognised as Brother William’s. _If only I knew what I had to look for!_ A vessel with the inscription Vitex Agnus-Castus caught my eye: chaste tree. I thought of how he'd had a bunch of the dried plants when he came to see me that night. Had he not alluded to my feelings towards him, but wanted to give me a hint? After all, that evening we talked about how it would be possible to help Jonah ... I reached for the container hastily, unscrewed the cap - and stared at about 500 grams of finely ground chasteberry. That could not be right, I was sure! On the verge of desperation, I shoved my hand in, searching for a hidden clue that I did not find. Now my nerves were actually at breaking point; I could not think of another place to continue my search. I thought frantically about the conversations I had had with him, especially trying to recall what he had said to me when he came to my room a few days ago, but soon realized that this conversation was only superficially about Jonah - instead of talking about how to help him, to protect him from the latent threat posed by the author of the letter, we had tried to figure out where we stood concerning our relationship. Whether feelings could be involved in the game was completely out of place. Even though I still had no answer to this question, I could say one thing quite clearly: Whatever had been behind this conversation - it had not been a hidden clue to a potential poisoner within the monastery walls.

Sullen, I returned to the monastery and wandered aimlessly through the dimly lit corridors. The monks had probably just gathered in the common room or had retired to their rooms to read or rest for a while. There was an almost eerie silence and I would have preferred to also retire to the cozy room with the roaring log fire and enjoy the company of the other men, after doing so much on my own today, but just as I passed the doors to the library, I decided to look there again; maybe I could find out anything else inside.

However, as it soon turned out, I would not get very far.


	29. Chapter 29

I had barely put my hand on the doorknob when a deafening noise broke the evening silence, as if a heavy object had fallen to the ground and burst into a thousand pieces. Following the noise, I ran to the lounge and directly into an older monk who, as well as at least ten of his brothers, stood in the entrance hall and stared into the room. I tried to push myself through the crowd to see what had happened when someone grabbed my hand.

"Doctor Watson, good to have you here, we need your help - once again."

The unknown brother dragged me into the room and to the farthest corner, where usually only a few chairs were arranged around a glass table - now the glass plate of the table was broken and in the midst of the bloody shards lay Brother Francis - he did not move, while Father Andrew and two other brothers tried to free him without causing further injury. I made my way through the surrounding monks, helped the novice to straighten up first and then, as carefully as possible, free him from the layers of his habit and scanned his skin for splinters of glass. The black cloth showed some damp spots - but the undergarment was soaked to the waist with blood.

"How did that happen?" I asked to the novice, who seemed to be too weak to answer me and only gave a low, painful groan. In his place, Father Andrew speculated that he might have slipped on the floor tiles and fell. When he heard these words, Brother Francis seemed to awaken briefly from his shock, blinking and looking restlessly around the room. He then raised a trembling hand and pointed to Brother Jonah, who was leaning against a wall, chewing nervously on his lower lip.

"That wasn’t an accident," croaked Francis, "He hit me!"

Sounds of disbelief filled the crowd of gathered brothers as they stepped back and turned to the accused, forming a semicircle around him.

"Justify yourself!" Father Andrew commanded in a thunderous voice. He stood in front of Jonah, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes unrelenting as I had never seen him before.

"I ... I did not do it!" The blond stammered, looking around for help; however, none of the other brothers seemed to want to back him up. Once again, he began to defend himself, "I was not in the room at all when it happened, I left the room with you when the bell rang! What reason would I have to attack him?"

"You were the only one who, except Brother Francis, was still in this room before it happened."

The older monk who had made that statement looked at Jonah with a mixture of mistrust and pity; it was impossible to tell which emotion was stronger.

"I'm innocent," the novice muttered, glaring at his blood-drenched brother, "why are you doing this?"

He received no answer. Instead, Father Andrew headed for the exit.

"I'm calling the police. It's too much over the past few days to handle these things on our own. "

"Why didn’t you call the police when Brother William was poisoned?"

The words had slipped out of me before I could stop it.

"Prior Lambert did that immediately after he was informed about the events. The investigation is already underway. "

A murmur went through the crowd until one of the men plucked up courage and asked the question that seemed to burn in their souls, "Brother William was ... poisoned?"

"That's not clear yet," Father Andrew tried to placate those present, "but we should not disregard the possibility that it was a tragic accident. At the moment we can only hope that Brother William awakens from the coma and enlightens us concerning these events. And we should ask for an ambulance for Brother Francis, don’t you think, Doctor? "

I glanced at the novice, assessed the extent of his injuries, and nodded absently; I could not help it, that at the moment my concern was mainly Jonah, who was slumped on the floor. This couldn’t be true. Jonah would never do that. Just as little as he ... William ... the chocolates ...

No, this couldn’t be true. Not Jonah. He, who was so honest and so good-natured and who just loved William very much, yes, once even loved him dearly - why should he hurt anyone? Were the accusations that Francis had made merely an attempt to distract suspicion from himself? Or was everything completely different than it appeared? Was it possible that Jonah had been trying all this time to deflect trouble? Because he himself was the culprit? Could I have been so wrong about him? I decided to be as neutral as possible for the time being and kept myself in the background until the paramedics arrived and took Brother Francis away. He had lost a lot of blood and possibly even needed a transfusion.

It was not long before the police arrived, a detective inspector and a sergeant, who had evidently been entrusted with investigating the convent, as the Prior addressed the two men upon their arrival without asking their names. He went into his office with Father Andrew. Jonah followed, flanked by the two police officers. I didn’t know what to do next; waiting for the novice would probably have been too conspicuous, Francis was certainly already being treated in the hospital and William ... well, maybe I should go see him again tomorrow, even if he probably would not know I was there. Only this time, I would stick to the rules and sign out before leaving the monastery,

I began to ponder; maybe this was not a bad idea at all ... I hardly knew the blond novice, had only been in the kitchen once or twice with him and sat next to him during novice classes, but otherwise I did not know about the man whose room I had secretly searched. Maybe that was my only chance to get any indication that he really was the one behind the cowardly attack on William. The mere fact that, according to his dialect, he came from Northern Ireland, from where, according to William, the drug dealers that he and Jonah had flown was still no proof. Jonah himself sounded as if his roots were in the north of England, yet he had chosen this very place to spend his life - why should not it have been similar for Brother Francis? The fact that he had only entered the monastery after Jonah and William did not confirm the suspicions against him, but might be a mere coincidence. Conclusion: Everything that I knew so far about his possible involvement in these events, I had learned from Jonah and I lacked tangible evidence.

Jonah ...

I hesitantly walked up and down the hall thinking about my conversation with him. Could it really be that he had pushed Brother Francis and caused his fall through the glass? It just did not fit in with the image of the peaceful young monk who grew so much in his faith that nothing else counted for him. I couldn’t imagine him committing such an act of violence. On the other hand, that also applied to all other friars. But it was clear that someone had poisoned the chocolates that William had eaten with a strong neurotoxin and there was a high likelihood that this person was living here in the monastery.

I tried sorting my thoughts and approaching it logically. Had I not known him, my suspicion would probably have fallen on Jonah first - after all, it was he who had given William the chocolates. The two men knew each other before, had been a couple for a long time, and probably had a closer relationship until a few days ago than was common among religious people. Besides, Jonah seemed to have some emotional instability lately - could anything have happened between the two men that could have made him do such a thing?

I shook my head as if to scare the thought away; it was just nonsense. What motive should Jonah have? Poison was generally the weapon of choice for jealous women ... I stopped. Jealousy. How many times had Jonah talked to me about William in the last few days and about the feelings he supposedly held for me? Again and again he had come to the conclusion that he would secretly give me longing glances; I had been given a drawing of William and Jonah made it clear to me more than once that Williams romantic interest clearly belonged to his own gender. Had he just wanted to test me to see how I responded to it? Did I say anything that could have aroused Jonah's jealousy and incited him into such a deceitful act? I pondered over these questions for some time but couldn’t come to a conclusion.

Well ... besides the fact that, after realizing that William had fallen into a coma because of the poison, Jonah had gone to his confessor. Has this been a suspected act of revenge gone awry and gone horribly wrong? The scenario that took shape in my mind was not completely far-fetched - yet I had always been able to rely on my gut when it came to who I could trust and who not. And with Jonah I was very sure that my gut did not let me down. Could I dare to seek the conversation with him and address him as subtle as possible about my suspicions? His reaction would certainly clarify the outcome.

As inconspicuously as possible, I hovered in a side corridor near the cloister, waiting for Jonah to finally return from the interrogation. When I heard footsteps approaching on the stone floor, I squeezed myself into a dark niche and kept as quiet as a mouse. Three men appeared in the corridor, all clad in the familiar black habit. The first of them had a golden cross over his chest - Prior Lambert. As they approached, I also recognized Jonah and Father Andrew. The latter held the novice by one arm as if to support him, which was quite surprising, since the young man did not seem to need help. The Prior held the glass door that separated the cloister from the rest of the monastery and let the other two men walk through. Slowly and careful not to make any noise that would have revealed my presence, I crept to the door and peered through the glass. They had stopped in front of Jonah's cell and waited until he disappeared into the room, whereupon Prior Lambert produced a bunch of keys from the pocket of his habit and locked the door. Then the two men turned around and started their way back, so I quickly disappeared back into the dark niche. 

I would have to abandon my plan to speak with Jonah. And I already suspected that in the foreseeable future I would not see him at church or at mealtimes ... 


End file.
